Come after me
by NancyMay
Summary: Set directly after the end of Season 3. Phryne had called to Jack to 'come after me' when she ran to the plane. This story imagines what happens when he finally does. because, of course, he tried so hard not to fall in love with her. After the first chapter the action will move to England.
1. Chapter 1

**My second go at a Miss Fisher fic. Thanks to all the lovely reviews for the first one which have given me the encouragement to try another one.**

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'Come after me, Jack!' She'd called as she ran to the waiting two-seater aircraft. 'Come after me!'

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Jack watched the small aircraft take off and eventually disappear from view. Part of him had some sympathy for Lord Fisher, flying in a small aircraft was bad enough, with your, somewhat reckless, adventurous daughter, had to be a terrifying prospect. He got in the car and drove home.

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The next couple of days were filled with paperwork, petty criminals and peace. The nights were filled with dreams of The Honourable Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective, in her car, in the airplane, and her voice, calling him, 'Come after me!'

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He didn't like the peace and quiet, he missed her sitting on the edge of his desk, deliberately letting her skirt show her stockings, just below her garter. He missed her teasing, pinching his toast off the plate on his desk, or the biscuits out of his, supposedly, hidden tin.

He missed her appearing at a crime scene, before or after him.

He missed her expensive perfume, her light touch on his arm, her face looking up at him when she had got an answer, whether it be right or wrong, and she was rarely wrong.

Jack missed Phryne, more than he would care to admit.

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Over the next week he tried to immerse himself in his work. There was enough crime in Melbourne to keep him and his men busy. He was just finishing reading a forensic report on a body found behind one of the houses in Sampson Lane off Little Lonsdale Street. Young woman, strangled with her scarf. Broken fingernails indicated she may have fought with her attacker. She had been robbed of any possessions, though Jack didn't think there would be much. The report was signed by Dr E Macmillan. He smiled to himself, he could go and see her in the morgue, and politely ask if she had heard anything from Miss Fisher. Just to check she hadn't landed in the Indian Ocean, literally.

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Dr Macmillan looked up as Inspector Robinson entered the morgue.

'Inspector,' she smiled, 'what brings you here? Too many long words in my report?'

'Ha ha,' he grinned, 'just wanted another look, you know, check you haven't missed anything.'

'Cheek,' she wiped her hands, 'have you been taking lessons from Miss Fisher?'

'I'm sure she's forgotten all about crime solving in Melbourne and is driving Scotland Yard round the bend now.'

'Actually, she's still in Paris.' Mac told him, 'she called me last night. Keeping Henry out of the clubs and watering holes is a full time job, apparently.'

'Staying _out_ of the clubs,' Jack gasped, 'that doesn't sound like our Lady Detective?'

'Oh, she'd be quite happy, but if she lets Henry into a club...' she left the rest hanging, he understood. 'She's heading off again tomorrow, should be in London tomorrow night.'

'Perhaps I should warn the local constabularies.'

Mac smiled, she could see the light in his eyes when he talked of Phryne, it had been missing lately, on the odd occasion she had seen him.

They discussed the case and agreed it was a strangling, possibly a rival prostitute, it didn't look like a man's work.

'Men usually use their hands,' Mac noted.

'Thank you, Dr Macmillan,' he waved the file at her as he left, 'give Miss Fisher my regards when you next speak to her.'

'I will.'

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They found the killer of the young girl, now know to be Mary-Jane Knowles. New to Melbourne and, as Mac had surmised, it was a rival. Mary-Jane had slipped in on another prostitute's patch and taken her clients.

'Go with anyone, anywhere,' Kathleen, 'kicking Kate' to those who knew her, snarled in the interview. 'Cheap little slut.'

Jack raised his eyebrows and told Collins to take her down to the cells, thinking it was a bit of the 'pot calling the kettle black'.

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Jack blinked in the darkness, the phone was ringing, bringing him out of his dream where he was chasing some errant wharfie down a street, himself pursued by Miss Fisher calling,

'Wait for me, Jack!'

'Inspector Robinson,' he fairly grunted down the receiver, there were times he resented the invention of the blasted instrument.

'Hello, Jack!' A familiar voice sang down the phone, 'did I wake you?'

'Miss Fisher?' He looked at the ear piece, 'do you know what time it is?'

'Oh, the night is young, Inspector.' She blithely replied, he could see the smile on her face, the wide eyes, the red lips.

'It's two thirty in the morning.' He informed her.

'Oh, sorry, I did wake you.' Again he saw her tip her head to the side and smile, 'well I just wanted to let you know I managed to get father back home to mother, safely.'

'I'm so glad.' He was, glad she was safe and glad Henry was out of Australia.

'Well, if I can help you with any little problems, just give me a call,' she said, 'even across the miles I wouldn't want you to be without me.'

'Thank you, Miss Fisher,' he smiled, cheeky madam, he thought, 'but we've managed these past ten days without you.'

'As you wish, Inspector, dear. This is my number anyway, I'm staying with my parents in their town house, in Kensington.' She reeled off a telephone number, 'well back to your sleep, Inspector, I'm sure someone will be up to no good tomorrow.' And she hung up.

Jack looked at the ear piece and put it back on its cradle then headed back to bed, shaking his head and smiling.

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Over the next couple of days Jack thought about the phone call from Miss Fisher. The number she had given him and the fact that she had told him where she was staying.

He sat in his office after a boring day. He needed a break, a holiday. Now that was a thought, he'd not taken a proper holiday for some time, and had accrued some leave, enough for a trip abroad. He'd served in France, but would have liked to see England, the land of his forefathers. However, it was a three week cruise, if he went by ship. But...if he flew?

'Collins, I'll be back in half an hour.' He strolled out of his office and past Hugh Collins, into the street and down to a travel agent.

Half an hour later he was still reeling at what he had just done, but, there, in an envelope was his ticket on the next flight to London, via half the world. Eleven days, several stop offs, but he could do it. He looked at his watch and grinned. 'Two can play at that game, Miss Fisher,' he whispered to himself.

He drove home, he couldn't make this call in the office, apart from prying ears, there was the cost.

He waited while the connection was made, 'Can I speak to Miss Phryne Fisher, please?' He could barely keep the smile out of his voice, and when the maid; he assumed; said that Miss Phryne was in bed, he just said it was urgent, from Australia with regard to a police case.

'I'm sorry about the early hour,' he lied. 'It's Inspector Robinson.'

He waited.

'Jack, couldn't this have waited? It's half past six in the morning.' She croaked down the phone.

'Sorry, did I wake you?'

'You know fine well you did, so what's this about a case?' She began to sound a bit brighter.

'Just thought I'd let you know I'm flying over to England, need to take a break.' He wasn't sure if he'd got her meaning when she had told him to go after her, he hoped he hadn't made a huge mistake.

'Jack, that's wonderful!' She sounded genuinely pleased. 'When will you be here?'

'Two weeks from today, that will be the fifteenth.' He smiled at her reaction. 'I didn't book a hotel, perhaps you could recommend one.'

'You'll stay with us.'

'Miss Fisher, I didn't mean...' and he hadn't, but the hotels included in the package meant he had to give a definite date of return, and he wasn't really sure.

'I know you didn't, but all the same,' she laughed, 'there's plenty of room here and I could do with an ally against father. Mother's dying to meet you.'

'Miss Fisher...'

Not another word, Inspector.' She cut him off, 'Now what time will you land, I'll pick you up.'

Mentally picturing a reckless drive through London in whatever car she was driving, he sighed and gave her the details.

'I'll see you then, Jack.' She cut the connection.

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In the hall, in the Kensington house, The Honourable Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective was positively bursting with joy, and now wide awake. She wasn't enjoying London as much as she thought she would and was wondering whether she should cut her trip short and fly home, but now Jack was coming to see her, she could have some fun. She'd been out to clubs and attended dinners and balls her mother had arranged, or had had her added on to the invitations but she hadn't had as much fun as she hoped. Not one single dalliance, not easy in her parents' house, admittedly, but not one young man had captured her attention. She had to admit, but only to herself, she missed Jack, and the kiss on the airstrip was not just a kiss.

She headed back up to her bedroom and into the bathroom. She ran a bath and poured in a liberal amount of rose scented bath crystals. She dropped her nightdress and robe over the stool and sank into the warm water thinking of all the things she and Jack could do for however long he was staying. He wouldn't be able to have too much time away, but she could offer to fly him back, that way she would have an excuse to go back with him, and stay in her beloved Melbourne.

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Jack put the phone down and headed back to City South Police Station to make his men aware of his plans and arrange for another Inspector to take his place until he returned. He also wanted to let Dr Macmillan know she would have another police officer to deal with, but he was leaving Senior Constable Collins for her. Also, he didn't want her to find out by other means that he had gone away, to England and therefore to Miss Fisher. He detoured via the morgue to catch her.

'Inspector, what can I do for you?' Mac smiled as he entered. 'I don't think I have a body, or do I?'

'No, doctor,' he suddenly became a little embarrassed. 'I just wanted to let you know someone else will be taking over at City South for a while, I'm taking some holiday.'

'And this would be of interest to me because..?' She opened her eyes.

'I didn't want you to find out by a circuitous route and put two and two together and get the right answer.' He smiled, she was one of the easiest people to talk to he knew, easier even than Miss Fisher.

'You have a lovely time.' She said, gently. 'You deserve a break.'

'Thank you, I'll leave you Constable Collins.' He shook her hand and left.

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While he didn't say where he was going Hugh understood at once and he would take great delight in telling his wife that the Inspector had gone after Miss Fisher. The rest of the men just nodded and said they'd try to keep everything going.

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Jack checked he had everything, tickets, money, cheque book, his service revolver was in one of his suitcases, not that he really knew why he was taking it, there again, Miss Fisher..., passport, top inside pocket of his jacket.

He locked the door of his house and hopped into Cec and Bert's taxi, so they now knew he was out of Melbourne, and they'd worked out where he was going, too.

'Right, Inspector?' Bert turned round, 'Off we go.'

'Thank you.' Jack smiled.

'Mrs Collins asked us to give you this,' Cec passed him a package, 'for the journey.'

Jack raised his eyebrows, but from the shape and feel of it, it was some of her biscuits that usually found their way into his, not so, secret tin.

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The flights were long, but the company wasn't too bad. He kept pretty much to himself, only answering questions, not initiating conversations. He had to think about his trip, how it would feel, seeing her again. Some of his fellow passengers wanted him to regale them with stories of his cases, but he only told of those that didn't include The Honourable Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective, and when he was asked the purpose of his trip he just said he was visiting an old friend.

He found himself observing the passengers that got on at different stops, not all those who had boarded in Melbourne were going to London, some were stopping in cities along the way. Some he was glad to see go, like the German matriarch who was determined to have him form an alliance with her somewhat plain and solid daughter. He was polite to them but very glad to see the back of them. Not that he had any belief about himself and Miss Fisher it was just that solid and plain girls, German or any other nationality, weren't his type.

His last stop was Paris. He had the time to wander the streets of a place he hadn't seen for years. It was vibrant and bright, something that Miss Fisher was, and he could well imagine it wasn't much fun for her to keep her father on the straight and narrow while they refuelled the plane and themselves.

He boarded the plane in the early morning, the last leg of his journey, and he was almost excited, to be seeing her again. In fact, every time he thought of her his heart did a little flip, until he told himself to behave, he was a middle aged police officer not some callow youth in lust.

He smiled as they flew over the white cliffs of Dover and eagerly looked out of the window for signs of the airport. He was struggling to contain his joy, and wondered how Miss Fisher felt about his visit.

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He collected his suitcases and his passport and walked out to the front of the main building. He couldn't see anyone waving or trying to attract his attention, so he put his case down. Suddenly there was a screech of brakes and the sound of a horn. He looked up to see, running across the tarmac in a most unladylike fashion, The Honourable Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective. Her arms were wide and she practically threw herself into his and he found himself picking her up and swinging her round. As he completed a complete circle she bent her head to his and touched her lips to his, firmly.

'Hello, Jack.' She smiled, a sultry and extremely sexy smile.

'Miss Fisher,' if she hadn't knocked his hat off in her enthusiastic greeting he would have raised it, politely.

She practically dragged him to her car, a dark green Bentley speed six. Nothing sedate for Miss Fisher, he noted.

'Sorry it's not the Hispano,' she grinned, revving the engine and taking off at break neck speed.

'I'm sure you can break just as many speed laws in this, Miss Fisher,' he looked at her, trying not to smile, which she would take as encouragement.

'Inspector,' she teased, 'as if.'

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So, this is my second fan fic for Miss Fisher, and will have more chapters. Writing two differently timed fictions, 1920s/30s for Miss Fisher and 1950s/60s for Dr Blake isn't easy so I hope I got this one right.


	2. Chapter 2

A chapter in which Jack finds out just how emotionally vulnerable Miss Fisher can be, when she hasn't got anything to keep her occupied. A kind of bridge between Melbourne and London.

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The journey from Croydon Airport to Kensington flew by. Miss Fisher drove much the same in London as she did in Melbourne, Jack was not surprised to find this and hadn't expected any different. In fact if she had driven sensibly and abided by the speed laws he would have put in a call to Dr Macmillan immediately, fearing she had had a brainstorm of some kind!

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The house was a double fronted Victorian villa with a small front garden that was well tended and filled the air with the fragrance of roses. Miss Fisher pulled up and almost leapt out,

'Here were are!' she grinned, 'home. Well, for now.'

Jack walked round the car to stand next to her, 'What do you mean, Miss Fisher, for now?'

'My home is in Melbourne, Inspector,' she turned and tucked her arm through his.

As they walked up the path, arm in arm, which Jack found faintly unnerving, this hadn't happened in Melbourne; but she was too busy talking to notice any discomfort he may be suffering.

'...so father purchased this house.' She was telling him about her father selling the estate, 'of course mother was furious. She likes the house, it's just that he did it without telling her.' The door opened to reveal a tall, thin and somewhat imperious looking butler, who looked as if he had a bad smell under his nose.

'Miss Phryne.' He intoned.

'Chivers, this is Inspector Robinson,' Phryne ignored the pompous tones of the man, 'his bags are in the car.'

'Very well, miss.' He took Jack's hat and coat as Phryne carried on speaking to him.

'I'll show the Inspector his room, Chivers,' she carried on through the hall and up the stairs.

Jack was surprised at the way she greeted the man. Usually she took her own bags out of the car, but she had stopped him picking his up, and told him that would be seen to.

She opened a bedroom door, 'You're in here, Jack.' She turned to him and smiled then noticed his face. 'Chivers gets really upset if I do anything that might be deemed to be his job.' She sighed, 'he's nothing like dear Mr Butler, he's ever so serious.'

'So how do you get away with showing me my room?' He asked, standing on the threshold of the room.

'I told him before I came to collect you, I wanted to.' She pulled him into the room. It was a warm room, with a double bed, a dresser and a wardrobe. The bed looked inviting, plenty of pillows, a dark green cover that matched the curtains at the windows. 'You have your own bathroom through here,' she opened a door to the side of the wardrobe, 'shower or bath, take your pick.'

She turned and smiled. 'I've missed you, Jack,' she said simply, but honestly, and went to stand right in front of him.

He looked down at her, 'I missed you too, Miss Fisher.' He smiled, 'it was far too quiet and I had all my biscuits, and...nobody sat on my desk.' At that precise moment he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her red lips, firmly and passionately, but he had only just arrived and didn't think it would be particularly good form.

'You must tell me what everyone is up to over tea, but I'll leave you to freshen up after your journey.' She headed to the door, 'come down when you're ready, to the drawing room.'

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Jack stood at the bottom of the stairs wondering which one was the drawing room, Miss Fisher had left that little bit of information out. Using his detecting skills and noticing that only one door was ajar he headed for that; he was right. Phryne was sitting on the window seat, gazing out onto the garden, her knees drawn up and her arms around them, she seemed deep in thought. He waited for her to notice him. After about a minute, she hadn't turned round so he went over and gently touched her shoulder.

'Miss Fisher?' He whispered.

'Jack, sorry,' she turned and flashed him that wide smile that had been missing from all his cases, large and small, 'miles away.'

'Are you alright?' He was sure there was something bothering her.

'I'm fine,' she uncurled her slim legs, 'I sit here sometimes and half expect Cec and Bert to arrive with Jane or Dot.' She looked up at him and smiled. 'Now, tea,' she went over to the fireplace and pushed a button in. He vaguely heard a bell ring somewhere in the depths of the house. 'I miss just going into the kitchen to find Mr B, I'd forgotten how formal things are in England.'

Jack looked at her and thought she had lost some of her zest for life. His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening,

'Miss?' A young girl, he suspected the one who'd answered the phone when he rang to tell her he was coming over.

'Afternoon tea, please, Elsie.'

'Yes miss.' The girl bobbed and left.

'See,' she said, almost petulantly, 'I wouldn't have to ring or call for Mr B or Dot, tea magically appears, at home.'

'Miss Fisher...' he went to her and touched her arm, 'Phryne.' And then he was holding her, kissing and stroking the top of her head.

'Sorry, Jack.' She pulled herself together, 'it's been a hell of a week.'

He pulled her to sit on the chaise longue, 'Tell me.'

They were interrupted for a moment while Elsie put the tea things out. There were little cucumber sandwiches, smoked salmon on fingers of brown bread, scones, cakes, meringues and a pot of tea.

'Thank you, Elsie.' Miss Fisher smiled at the girl.

She poured the tea and they took a plate each and loaded it with sandwiches and the smoked salmon fingers.

He waited for her to speak, watching her chew thoughtfully. She swallowed and turned to face him.

'I went up to the attic.' She sipped her tea, 'I knew I had some books there that Jane might like. I left them at the estate meaning, at some point, to send for them. There are lots of boxes up there and I wasn't sure which one was mine, none are labelled. I looked in the first one, it was some lamps and ornaments. Others contained things that mother hasn't found space for, yet. Then I found one, which at first I thought was my books, but it wasn't all of them. The ones on the top were, so I took them out and found things I thought had been got rid of. Oh Jack! I didn't know mother had kept so much, of Janey's things. Her battered school books, a dress, a shoe, I know those were Janey's, her name was inside them.'

'Miss Fisher, I have told you,' he put his plate down and took her hand in his, such close contact between the two was not usual, even though they had shared a hasty kiss on the airfield and she had flung herself at him at Croydon, but his instinct told him this was what she needed, 'you are not to blame for Janey's death. That was all Foyle and he has paid the price for his crimes.'

'I know,' she blinked back the tears that filled her eyes, 'but, usually I have something to take my mind off it, here, all I do is think about it.'

'It will always be there,' he murmured, 'you will never forget, nor should you. Just as I will never forget the men I saw die in the trenches. But you can't let it define you. I do know one thing, she would be incredibly proud of you, proud of all you do to help people, even if you do pinch my biscuits.' He finished with a grin.

'Well you should hide them better,' she began to smile teasing him about his lousy hiding spaces.

'You're too good a detective, Miss Fisher.' He squeezed her hand and they returned to the tea.

'So, what are our friends up to?' She asked as she delicately nibbled a meringue.

'Dorothy is happily sorting out their new home, Hugh says she is constantly surrounded by material for curtains.' He laughed, 'she has the red raggers running errands for her and she is making use of the business cards you gave her, just with small problems, missing family members, servants misbehaving, those sort of things, but she does well, and I have let her look at a couple of witness statements when I need a pair of fresh eyes.'

'Good, I hoped she would,' Miss Fisher really seemed to come alive again, 'and Mr B?'

'He has taken a short holiday at his sister's in Geelong,' Jack told her, 'he keeps the Hispano running for you. Apparently it doesn't do it good to sit without being run.'

'I did tell him to,' she put her plate down. 'I take it Cec and Bert are still running their taxi business, when they're not running errands for Dot?'

'Oh yes.' Jack smiled. Their conversation was interrupted by the front door being opened.

'Thank you , Chivers.' Phryne heard her mother enter, 'put those in my dressing room please.'

'Yes, Lady Fisher,' Chivers was heard to rumble, 'your daughter and her guest are in the drawing room.'

'Some fresh tea, then I think.' Lady Fisher suggested before opening the door to the drawing room, hoping her daughter had heard her and was behaving herself. One never knew with Phryne.

Jack stood up as Lady Fisher entered the room. The first thing he noticed was how like her Phryne was, though the older woman's hair was grey, she had the same generous mouth and large bright eyes.

'Hello, mother.' Phryne went to greet her with a kiss to her cheek, 'this is Inspector Jack Robinson.'

Jack held out his hand and smiled, 'Lady Fisher.' He said.

'Inspector,' she took his hand and smiled back, 'how lovely to meet you, at last. Phryne has told me so much about you, and I must, before I forget my manners, thank you for helping her keep my husband out of too much trouble.'

Jack smiled, he couldn't say it was a pleasure, really, 'Please, call me Jack. I was happy to help Miss Fisher.'

'Miss Fisher?' Lady Fisher laughed, 'such ceremony, Jack.'

'Yes, Jack,' Miss Fisher teased, 'you can call me Phryne, you know.'

'Where is your father, dear?'

'I haven't seen him,' Phryne mused, 'not since I brought Jack back from the airport.'

'Have you recovered from your journey, Jack?' Lady Fisher asked, while frowning at her husband's absence.

'Yes, I see your daughter hasn't changed her driving habits.'

'Hmm...' Lady Fisher pursed her lips at her daughter. 'Phryne?'

Phryne just grinned.

They spent a pleasant afternoon chatting about this and that and things that Phryne wanted to show Jack. As they both enjoyed the theatre she had got tickets to see Noel Coward's new play, 'Private Lives'. It would be quite different to anything they had seen in Melbourne, but it starred the writer himself and was reputed to be a little risqué. That was for later in the week, for the first couple of days Phryne would take Jack round London and they would see the sights.

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Henry arrived just as Chivers was serving pre dinner drinks. Whisky for Jack and his Lordship and sherry for the ladies. Phryne smirked. Chivers knew that Miss Phryne was not a sherry drinker and even her mother had asked him not to offer it to her, but he persisted. One day, he hoped, Miss Phryne would behave more like a young English lady. As Henry had to go and change, his daughter took his whisky and grinned at Jack. He raised his glass to her and Lady Fisher, shook her head, but smiled a little smile. Even though Jack had only arrived that day, Phryne had become more Phryne. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing, but she hated to see her remaining daughter anything resembling sad. She didn't know that Phryne had found the memories of Janey and had slept through her daughter's nightmares, that the discovery had produced.

Phryne had a recurring dream of Murdoch Foyle coming for her, holding Janey and offering to swap her, but Janey always disappeared before Phryne could agree to the exchange and she would wake, bathed in perspiration and shaking. She had even taken to sleeping with a small light on by the side of her bed. Going out to clubs in the evening and drinking more than was wise did not help, in fact if anything it made the dreams all the more real, so she had given that up and would sit in the garden with a post dinner whisky, poured while Chivers wasn't looking, and a cigarette, which he also didn't approve of.

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Phryne's father would drink most things, including her sherry, giving Chivers the idea that at last Miss Phryne had settled down. Lady Fisher looked at him over dinner, not knowing what he had been up to, hoping that it wasn't another card game.

Phryne was so wise when it came to finances, investing her fortune wisely, so she could live off the interest and gains she made, and she had gone to the bank and insisted that her father was given an allowance. The manager had, at first, resisted all entreaties. Young women should not meddle in finances, they were too emotional for such dealings, and men had to sign as guarantor for all loans for women. That was just how it was. When she told him how much she knew about her father's unwise business dealings and losses at cards or any form of gambling he finally relented and Henry had his 'pocket money', the household bills were paid by her mother and she had her own account for her dressmaker and such things she wished to purchase. The rest of the family fortune, apart from hers which was hers to do with as she would and anyway was being dealt with in Melbourne, was invested and she would review such dealings twice a year.

Dinner was very good, a starter of a light vegetable soup, followed by sole veronique, beef wellington with pommes dauphnoise and green beans, and all topped off by a fresh fruit salad with chantilly cream.

Henry said he had been at his club, all afternoon and apologised to Jack for not being here to greet him.

'That's quite alright, Lord Fisher,' Jack smiled, 'Phryne greeted me quite nicely.'

'Jack, you've known me long enough to drop the formality, it's Henry.'

Jack nodded, it was easier to arrest him if he thought of him as Lord Fisher and tried to forget he was Phryne's father. Not that he was planning to arresting him, that was up to the local force, should it become necessary, but he was sorry he didn't trust the man as well as he felt he ought to.

They adjourned to the drawing room for coffee and liqueurs, Jack was rather glad that he and Henry weren't required, by Chivers, to drink port and smoke cigars while the women had their coffee separate, at least he had bent to this more modern custom. Phryne had whispered in his ear that the butler had been preserved in vinegar in the 1880's and been revived to irk her! Jack had taken a mouthful of wine to smother the laugh that threatened.

Phryne sat on the chaise longue and patted the space next to her, while looking at Jack. She swirled a cognac around in the glass more relaxed than usual, and that was not due to the wine she had consumed, which was negligible.

They chatted about the house in Melbourne, Jack told them something of his younger life, most which Phryne knew, of his family and he was quite open about his marriage to Rosie.

Having met Jack, Lady Fisher thought Rosie's loss was her daughter's gain, though Phryne had always said she would never marry and have a family, it wasn't for her. In the short space of time she had really known Inspector Jack Robinson she had decided he was the one man to change her daughter's mind on all that, because he, she knew, loved Phryne for who she was. Which was the best way to make a marriage work.

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Towards midnight Jack excused himself, saying it had been a long day.

'I'm glad you decided to come, Jack.' Lady Fisher said, smiling as he took his leave.

'So am I, Lady Fisher.' He kissed her hand and smiled at Phryne, 'Good night.'

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It was true, he was tired, although he had managed to catch up with the time difference as he travelled, but the day's travelling had begun to take its toll, and he really was now beginning to feel rather jaded.

He washed and changed into clean cream cotton pyjamas. Sliding between the crisp cotton sheets he soon fell asleep. He didn't hear the other members of the household head to their rooms or the running water in the bathrooms, he slept on.

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Lord and Lady Fisher headed to bed before their daughter, who was sitting in the garden with her, now, customary cigarette and whisky. She hoped she wouldn't have her dream, Jack's room was next to hers and she didn't want to wake him, to show her vulnerability, even though, from the conversation earlier in the afternoon, he was more than aware she had her Achilles heel, apart from spiders!

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Chivers looked out to check that there was no one outside and noticed Miss Phryne sitting, apparently lost in her thoughts.

'Miss Phryne?' He nodded to her, 'I am about to lock up for the night.' It was his way of saying, 'time for bed.'

She stood and headed into the house, 'Good night, Chivers,' she said resignedly.

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Her bedroom was decorated with pinks, burgundies and creams. He curtains were already closed, and her bed was turned down. Her pink silk nightdress was lying ready for her. She sighed and went to open the curtains a little, just letting in a little of the moonlight. Phryne change into her nightdress, dropping her clothes into the laundry basket, she washed and cleaned her teeth and took off her make-up. She sat at her dressing table and brushed her hair, and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Shaking her head and telling herself to stop thinking too hard she headed to the bed and picked up her book before settling against the pillows to read for a while.

The book, a collection of D H Lawrence, including the new story The Virgin and the Gypsy, didn't hold her attention, and she eventually put it down, sliding under the clean sheets and closing her eyes.

Sleep claimed her relatively quickly but, unfortunately for her, so did the dream.

She was at the circus. The day was bright, sunny and warm. Janey was pulling her back and saying they should go home. they didn't have tickets, but Phryne pulled her so they could see through a gap in the tent. She could smell the animals, elephants and lions, the straw the sawdust and the greasepaint. Then, there he was, smiling, offering something, sweets, a smile. A gap in time, then he had Janey and she was crying. Foyle held out his hand, and beckoned to Phryne,

'An exchange, her for you, the fourth goddess,' but the picture misted over before she could agree, and that's when she started to shout,

'No! Janey!' She sat up, her eyes open but unseeing, her hand outstretched for her sister, 'let her go, please!'

'Phryne,' warm arms enfolded around her, she caught the scent of sandalwood, a masculine smell and soft word invaded her ears,

'It's alright.' Jack held her tight, but not too tight, just enough to control her fight, her fists pounding at his chest, 'shh, Phryne, shh.' He stroked her head and kissed the top of it, taking in the remnants of her Chanel perfume.

Phryne gradually woke properly, and stopped fighting.

'Jack?' She whispered, 'Jack, I'm sorry, I woke you.'

'How long?' He let her lean back in his arms just enough to see her face, 'how long have you been having these dreams, these nightmares?'

'It's nothing.' She tried to make light of the situation, not easy considering she was enveloped in warmth and love, in Jack's arms.

'It's not nothing,' he looked into her eyes, bright with unshed tears, tears she hesitated to let go in his presence. 'is it?'

Phryne's shoulder's sagged, 'I suppose not.' She sighed. She told him about the recurring dream, that had only started after she had found Janey's things in the attic, but it was so real and she was still so eaten up with guilt that all she wanted to do was change places with Janey, who, she was convinced, deserved life more than she ever did. She shivered, the breeze through her window cooling the perspiration on her shoulders.

'You shouldn't think like that, Phryne,' he continued stroking her, 'Janey would not want you to be in her place. How many times do I have to tell you, it was not you who killed Janey, and the person who did that is dead, I watched him die, I watched them put his body in the coffin and bury him, he can't hurt you anymore.'

'Jack...' she gave in to the tears she had never finished shedding, not by Janey's graveside, not by her tomb in the family vault, not into her pillows at night when she was particularly lonely or drunk or angry. '...don't leave me, not tonight.'

He slipped under the covers with her, praying nobody would find them together in the morning, and held her until she finally fell asleep, wondering what he could do to help her. Coming to England and finding those things had opened the wounds that never completely healed. Phryne, he decided needed something to keep her mind busy, but what?

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So, will Jack be found in Phyrne's bed in the morning? What will she find to do to keep her mind busy, or can he finally convince her that it was not her fault?


	3. Chapter 3

Jack woke early to find something lying on his arm and consequently he had lost all feeling in it. He looked down to see Phryne fast asleep, almost serene in her slumber. Thinking back to the previous night his heart broke for her, to be suffering these nightmares and nobody knowing, she must have felt so alone. He eased his arm out and flexed his fingers until the pins and needles stopped and the feeling fully returned.

He looked over at her bedside clock, six forty-five, just gone, he didn't really want to be caught in his hostess' daughter's bed so decided he would slip out and back to his own room. Phryne should be alright for the remainder of her sleep, now.

He opened the door just enough to see if the coast was clear, feeling like a randy adolescent. It was, so he quickly got himself into his room and went and sat on the bed. Might as well shower and dress. He could think while he did so.

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He had taken his time with his morning routine and was just adjusting his tie when there was a knock on the door.

'Come in,' he expected Elsie or Chivers, but it was Phryne, bathed, dressed and her make-up immaculate as always.

'Phryne,' he showed his surprise, 'I thought you'd still be asleep.' He looked at her, 'I didn't wake you did I?'

She looked a little embarrassed, which was new, to him, 'No, well, in a way I suppose so, but,' she looked up and attempted a smile, 'no matter.' She approached him and took over his tie, 'I wanted to apologise, for last night.' She patted his chest, 'I didn't mean to wake you.'

'So you said,' he smiled down at her and lifted her chin with his forefinger, '...and there's no need to apologise. You had a nightmare, that's all. If it happens again, I will do the same. You don't have to be alone in this, Miss Fisher.' He kissed her forehead lightly.

'Thank you.' She whispered.

They both knew that something had changed in their relationship, they were closer, more than friends but less than lovers. They stood for a few moments before she took a deep breath and moved half a step back,

'Breakfast?' She asked, her voice now lighter, brighter and controlled.

'Breakfast,' he agreed and indicated she should precede him out of the room.

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'Now, what are you two up to today?' Lady Fisher asked brightly as she filled her plate from the sideboard.

'I thought we'd just go into town and see what happens.' Phryne tucked into bacon, scrambled eggs (not as good as Mr B's), mushrooms and toast.

'Is that wise, dear?' He mother asked.

'Well, it's Jack's holiday, mother,' Phryne smiled, 'if he sees somewhere he wants to go we shall go there. We should be back for dinner, tonight.'

Lady Fisher looked a little worried that her daughter hadn't arranged things for the Inspector to see in particular.

'I think that sounds like a plan,' Jack could see the concern on her face, 'not to have a plan.'

Phryne laughed as Lady Fisher rolled her eyes, she would never really understand her daughter, but she did love her, and so, it appeared, did Jack.

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They decided to take the tram into town as leaving the car for most of the day didn't seem a wise idea. Lady Fisher did suggest that Chivers drive them but Phryne declined, noting that his driving was actually slower than the tram. Jack smiled behind the newspaper.

Phryne linked her arm through Jack's as they wandered the streets of the capital. They gazed in shop windows, and found an exhibition of young undiscovered artists in a small gallery. A pleasant couple of hours was spent with Phryne making a note of any artists she might like to follow, and purchasing a small canvas depicting a single pink rose in various stages of bloom. It was a little traditional compared to some of the other works she had in her house in Melbourne but she rather liked it, for its simplicity.

They found a bookshop where publications old and new were sold. The browsed the shelves but did not buy, although one or two titles reminded her she had copies, up in the attic.

Over lunch in a small Italian restaurant, Jack noticed her thoughtful manner.

'Penny for them?' He asked quietly, watching her twirl her fork in her spaghetti.

'Hmm?' She looked up, 'sorry, drifting again.' She smiled.

'Come on, Miss Fisher,' he teased, 'you've been quiet ever since we left the book shop. I thought you were going to buy something in there.'

'I've already got the ones I saw,' she sighed.

'I see,' he wasn't a Detective Inspector for nothing. 'Want me to help? You don't have to look in the boxes, I could just lift the books out and you could take it from there.'

'That's kind of you, Jack.' She smiled, 'but it doesn't matter, I'll get round to it.'

'...and then what?' He knew she was independent but sometimes she was too independent. 'Nightmares, again? Disturbed sleep?'

Her shoulders sagged, he was right, and it was a way to sort out what she wanted, without putting herself in that position again.

'I suppose it's an idea.' She looked at him, such a sensitive man, and he cared, really cared. No man had actually cared that much for her before, they gave, she took and that was it. She wondered, briefly, what it would be like to be made love to by Inspector Robinson. Perhaps, one day, she'd find out!

They finished lunch and left after Jack paid, he insisted, intending to walk in Hyde Park. The newly opened lido was a favourite place for Phryne, if she wanted to swim, but today she just wanted to show Jack where she spent some of her time.

'There are open air performances, sometimes.' She told him, 'I came to see The Tempest last week, but it rained in the second act.'

'Rather appropriate,' Jack smiled. 'Care to try again?'

'Pardon?' She stopped mid stride and turned to him.

'According to that stand over there, 'It's 'The Taming of the Shrew' day after tomorrow.'

'Are you trying to say something, Inspector' she teased.

'I wouldn't presume, Miss Fisher.' He smiled back, 'though...'

She batted his upper arm, playfully.

'Shall we see if we can get tickets?' He suggested, he rather liked the idea of sitting in the park, under the stars with her, watching a play. 'Perhaps Chivers could put a picnic together for us.'

'I'll have to tell him what we'd like.' She smirked, 'He's not as good as Mr B.'

Tickets obtained, Phryne and Jack sauntered back home in search of tea.

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Lady Fisher smiled when they walked into the drawing room. She had just shown the last of her visitors out, Mrs Walsingham and her son Andrew, who had designs on Phryne. Phryne had made no secret of the fact that she had no interest in him, whatsoever. Lady Fisher didn't blame her, he was a bit effete, in her eyes. When he and his mother had first dined with them he had been too attentive to her daughter, who teased him unmercifully. Andrew had not got any of the points she had made, and had made repeated requests for her to join him for dinner, for lunch and to the theatre. Phryne invented some of the strangest excuses, and still he didn't realise she was having rather a lot of fun at his expense. One of her wilder excuses was that she was planning on seducing the male chorus of the opera at Covent Garden. Lady Fisher had left the room to hide her laughter.

But, the Walsingham's had, somehow, managed to engineer an invitation to dinner that night. Still, there was Jack.

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'Mother! Really!' Phryne gasped and threw her hands up in the air. 'Honestly he is such a wet rag!'

'I know dear,' Lady Fisher tried to appeal to her better nature, 'it just sort of slipped out.'

'Well, don't be surprised at any excuses I use this time.' Phryne shrugged.

'What is it about them?' Jack asked, feeling he needed to be forewarned.

'Oh, Mrs Walsingham isn't too bad. Think Aunt P but softer.' Phryne grinned, 'it's him.'

'Andrew is sweet on Phryne.' lady Fisher explained. 'Some of her excuses are rather wild, and still he tries.'

'What excuses?' Jack felt a little nervous, Phryne was known for teasing the less bright.

'I think her worst was her intention to seduce the male chorus of the opera at Covent Garden.' Lady Fisher pursed her lips, 'really, Phryne, dear, that was going a bit far.'

'Oh,' Jack sighed, 'just the male chorus, I thought you'd have gone for the leads.'

'Jack, you know me too well.' Phryne smiled and kissed his cheek, which made him blush, slightly, after all her mother was watching. 'Well I'm going to have a bath, a long one, I need to be ready for dinner tonight.'

'Join me for tea, Jack.' Lady Fisher indicated he should sit with her. 'You can tell me what my daughter did to you today.'

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Phryne met Jack on the landing just before dinner, she looked stunning, he thought, as if she had made a special effort. Her gown was of blood red satin, bias cut, thin shoulders that draped down in a V shape to between her breasts, fitted to the waist and hugging her hips, clinging to her legs to the floor. Little gems randomly sparkled as she moved. She turned to take his arm and head down the stairs, and as he did so she revealed the back of the dress. It fell from her shoulders to below her waist, showing most of the creamy white skin on her back, then fell in a fish-tail to the floor forming a short train. The little gems were tucked in the folds of the 'tail' and caught the light beautifully. The most she wore underneath, Jack assumed, was her silk knickers, not that he should be thinking of such things. In her hair she wore an apparently simple double strand of the gems across her fringe, held in place either side by a cluster of rubies and diamonds.

'Miss Fisher.' He smiled, 'you look lovely, beautiful.' The last word a whisper.

'You wash up well, yourself, Inspector,' she teased. 'Thank you,' she murmured and smiled. Jack had a formal dinner suit on, with a bow tie, which she adjusted, just because she could.

The Walsingham's were just arriving when Jack and Phryne walked down the stairs. He suppressed a smirk. When he had asked her what Andrew Walsingham looked like her description was less than flattering but short.

'Jack,' she giggled behind her hand, 'he is the archetypal chinless wonder.' She left it at that.

Jack wanted to hide in a corner, it was so apt. Andrew was tall and very thin. He was chinless, there was no other way to describe him, with a thin, hooked nose, small pale grey eyes and nondescript, but if pushed, thin sandy hair.

'Ah, Phryne, Jack,' Lady Fisher smiled, Phryne had outdone herself this time, alluring, desirable, and that was not only her mother's impression, 'there you are.' She was really putting temptation in Andrew's way.

Lady Fisher introduced the Inspector to their guests, Mrs Walsingham said she was delighted to make his acquaintance, Andrew gave his hand a very limp shake and turned to Phryne.

'I say, Phryne, old girl,' he guffawed, 'you look ravishing.'

Phryne just smiled.

Any ravishing to be done tonight, mate, Jack thought, will be done by me.

Chivers handed round the pre dinner drinks and for once he had heeded his mistress' instructions and poured a whisky for Miss Phryne.

'Whisky?' Andrew raised his eyebrows in surprise.

'Sherry makes me...' She was about to say something rather crude until she saw her mother's warning look, '...hiccup.' She smiled.

'So, Inspector,' Mrs Walsingham turned to Jack, 'what brings you to London?'

'I've never been,' Jack smiled, 'and as Phryne had suggested I might, it seemed like a good idea.'

'But, what of law enforcement in Melbourne?' She asked.

'I'm not the only Inspector of Police in the State of Victoria,' he politely informed her, 'and even I have to have a break, sometime.'

'I don't know how you can put yourself near such, such...dregs.' Andrew sniffed. Jack felt Phryne stiffen, in the past Andrew would have considered her the 'dregs'.

'They are people too,' Jack said softly, 'just fallen on hard times, or made unfortunate choices.'

'Precisely, Jack.' Phryne emphasised, throwing Andrew a look that, if he had understood it, would have rendered him turned to stone. 'Some just deserve that chance, take my companion there, Dot.'

'Dot?' Mrs Walsingham asked, raising her eyebrows.

'Yes, dear Dot.' Phryne smiled, 'she was thrown out of her position and ended up on my doorstep. I'm so glad she did, I really couldn't do without her.'

'She is a lovely girl.' Jack agreed. 'So lovely my senior constable married her.'

'So you are now looking for another companion.' Andrew suggested.

'Oh no, Dot will continue to work for me, but...' Phryne's face changed and Jack knew she was going to tease him, '...I'll bear you in mind, if you can darn my stockings nicely and get blood out of my dresses.' She turned to Jack, 'would you escort me into dinner, Jack?'

Jack had managed not to choke on his drink, and stood up,

'It would be my honour and my pleasure, Phryne.' He offered her his arm. Phryne could see her mother biting the inside of her mouth to stop herself laughing, Andrew didn't see the funny side. He offered his arm to Lady Fisher and Henry did the same to Mrs Walsingham.

Andrew watched Jack bend to catch something Phryne was saying to him and saw him smile and nod. He didn't like this Antipodean upstart, a common policeman, no less.

Lady Fisher had seated Jack opposite Phryne in order to try to keep her under control, and Mrs Walsingham next to Jack and opposite her son.

Chivers brought out the first course, asparagus in hollandaise sauce.

'So, Andrew,' Jack decided he'd better engage the guest in conversation before Phryne had another dig at him. 'How do you keep yourself occupied?'

'Oh I dabble, here and there, don't you know.' Andrew speared a piece of asparagus with his fork. 'Stock market.'

'And what do you recommend, Andrew?' Phryne asked, disingenuously.

'Oh, my dear,' he smiled at her as if at someone with little understanding, 'I'm sure you're not in the slightest bit interested.' He patted her hand, gently. Jack was surprised she didn't jab it with her fork!

'Oh but I am,' she fluttered her lashes at him. It was Jack's turn to bite the inside of his mouth.

'Well, I suppose publishing, is good, everyone needs to read, don't you think?' He had chosen, what to the financially astute Phryne, was, a soft option, though she didn't disagree with him.

'I suppose so, but what about steel?' She asked, still looking for all the world like a simpering idiot.

'Oh, you wouldn't be interested in steel, my dear.' He smiled at her. Chivers chose that moment to clear the plates away in preparation for the fish course.

'Aeroplanes, then.' She looked across at Jack and smiled.

'Now, Phryne, my dear girl,' Andrew tried to pacify her and Lady Fisher tried to catch her eye, before she struck him down with simple words, which she was more than capable of.

'Phryne,' Mrs Walsingham cut in, 'surely you have no interest in aeroplanes.'

Chivers served the fish course, poached salmon on a bed of buttered spinach.

Phryne picked up her fork and took a mouthful of the salmon while she appeared to think about her answer,

'Well,' she swallowed, 'if one is going to get in an aeroplane I think it helps to know a little, don't you?'

Lady Fisher struck up a conversation with Mrs Walsingham about the plans for a new wing at a hospital they were championing through their 'good works', desperately trying to get Phryne off the subject of anything remotely masculine.

Ah, yes,' Andrew seemed grateful for the distraction, 'mother has said something about this, isn't it for the poor?'

Andrew's sneering about the under privileged or 'dregs' as he persisted in calling them, irked Jack as much as it annoyed Miss Fisher.

'Yes,' Lady Fisher turned to Jack, 'we thought it would help the general health of the city if those less fortunate could obtain some basic medical care, you know, wound care, children's medicine.'

'It sounds like an excellent idea,' Jack smiled, 'don't you think so, Miss Fisher?' the use of her more formal title told Phryne to save it a while.

'As Cec and Bert would say, bonzer!' Phryne grinned. 'No seriously, a good idea, mother, Mrs Walsingham. It would certainly help with the control of disease.'

'When you see the havoc an out of control infection can cause...' He didn't really want to think about a measles epidemic or some such.

'Of course you won't be going anywhere near the place,' Andrew turned to his mother and tried to sound firm, 'when it's up and running.'

'I shall,' Lady Fisher announced.

Phryne flashed her mother an approving smile,

'Capital,' agreed Henry, who had been watching his daughter with amusement, and raised his glass. 'Marvellous, m'dear!'

Chivers cleared the plates ready for the main course.

The main course was chicken in a pernod cream sauce with tiny rosemary roast potatoes and carrot ribbons.

Ready to start on the question of aircraft again, Phryne took a bite of the chicken and sauce and immediately followed it with a mouthful of wine. There wasn't much Phryne wouldn't eat or drink but she couldn't abide pernod. She carried on, eating the potatoes and scraping the sauce off the chicken. It was rather strong and even Jack found it overpowered the chicken, he too removed a lot of the sauce. Andrew didn't seem to notice, and the others ate it without complaint, though Lady Fisher may have a word with cook later.

'So, Phryne,' Andrew returned to the aborted conversation with her, 'you were saying, about aircraft. You have flown, I take it?'

'Oh yes,' she smiled her engaging 'I'm putty in your hands smile', 'I fly quite often, I've even been wing-walking.' She took a mouthful of wine and waited.

'Oh, no! My dear girl,' Andrew was horrified, 'you mustn't! A lady of your sensibilities..' He reached his hand under the table and squeezed her thigh. She didn't turn a hair though Jack could see she was less than comfortable with whatever the chinless wonder had done. Phryne looked up into Andrew's eyes and pushed her foot over onto his and pressed down with her heel, all the while smiling sweetly. Andrew paled as the pain radiated over his instep. He brought his hand back onto the table and Jack had a pretty good idea what he had done. From his expression, Jack surmised Phryne had got her own back!

Chivers cleared the plates, noticing the sauce on two plates.

They chatted about nothing in particular for a while, Phryne mentioned she was taking Jack to see 'Private Lives' with Noel Coward the following evening.

'Isn't that a bit, well, you know?' Andrew asked.

'I do believe so,' Phryne agreed as Chivers put her dessert down in front of her, Champagne and raspberry posset, with shortbread biscuit. She dipped her spoon in and smiled as the sweetness of the raspberry hit her tongue and the smooth creamy texture slipped down her throat. 'Delicious,' she murmured, nobody was sure whether she was referring to the dessert or the prospect of a risqué play at the theatre. Jack suspected it was both!

'I don't think that kind of thing is for young ladies,' Andrew mused.

'Oh Andrew,' Phryne teased, 'live a little.' she had a feeling he thought she was a hot house flower type, possibly a virgin, which she was fairly sure he was. One night with her and they would be scraping him off the carpet. Not that that was ever, EVER going to happen! He was so old fashioned, lord help any woman that allied herself to him.

'Shall we adjourn to the drawing room for coffee,' Lady Fisher started to rise and Jack immediately pulled her chair for her, 'thank you Jack.' He offered her his arm with an apologetic look to Phryne who was stuck with Andrew. She took it with good grace, though, she planned to have a little fun, having decided that the most she would get out of him was a stately waltz she thought a little dancing in the seldom used second reception room was in order. Her mother had said that she could use it if she had guests of her own age and wanted to, in her words, 'party'.

They drank their coffee and liqueurs and then she suggested they dance in the other room.

'Lovely idea, Phryne,' Henry grinned, 'time I whirled your mother round the dance floor, again.'

'Twilight waltz, father?' she smiled at him.

'Of course my dear.'

In the room Phryne set the recording going and Jack took her in his arms for a waltz, it was something she knew he was good at and she closed her eyes as he led her round the room, passing her parents as they also glided across the floor. Jack thought that if Henry confined his hobbies to waltzing life would be much simpler. He nodded at Henry as they passed on one turn then on the next the two gentle men deftly swapped partners until the end of the dance.

Another waltz followed and Henry took Mrs Walsingham to the floor while Jack, after Phryne had whispered in his ear, continued to dance with Lady Fisher. Phryne Dragged Andrew onto the floor, and found him a stiff dancer, who she had to lead, and his hand on her back was cold and clammy. It also seemed to go further round her and inside her dress than was proper, even for Phryne Fisher. She bore it well, thinking he wouldn't know what to do with whatever he found there, anyway.

'You choose, this time Jack.' She called as the music ended.

'Only if you will dance with me, Miss Fisher.' Was his reply.

He surveyed her choice of music and settled on a new one with a smile. He put the disc on the gramophone and started it up then went to take Phryne in his arms. Not a waltz this time and she had known when she saw the newness of the cover, a tango.

'Been practising, Inspector?' She teased.

'Collins and I got a little bored one day.' Was his reply, with a wink.

Their tango was raw, sexy and dark. Lady Fisher was surprised, but pleasantly so, Henry was in awe, Mrs Walsingham swallowed but Andrew looked furious. This policeman, this working man, was all over Miss Phryne and it was disgusting, he should stick to women of his social standing.

The dance ended with their faces almost touching, her eyes locked on his, for what seemed like forever. Until the stillness was shattered by Henry applauding.

Jack helped Phryne back to a standing position and guided her to a chair.

'Goodness, Inspector,' she fanned herself with her hand, 'you have improved.'

'Only the best for you, Miss Fisher,' he bowed and kissed her hand.

'Mother,' Andrew shook himself out of his dark thoughts about what he would do to Jack if he found him down a dark alley, 'I think it's time we left.'

'Surely not,' grinned Phryne, wickedly, 'you haven't tangoed with me yet, Andrew.'

'I do not tango, Miss.' He clipped.

'I do,' Mrs Waslingham muttered.

'In that case,' Jack offered her his hand, 'Mrs Walsingham, may I have the pleasure?'

Phryne practically skipped over to the gramophone and started the music again.

Jack took her though a standard tango, with none of the embellishments he had done with Phryne, who looked on with delight. Andrew looked as if he was about to explode with rage.

As soon as the dance was over, and Jack had bowed to his partner Andrew minced across the room and took his mother by the arm.

'Time to go, mother.' He hissed.

'Very well, Andrew,' his mother sighed, it had been years since she had danced and Jack was a good dancer.

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Andrew gave his mother his arm as they walked down from the front door, she could just be heard telling Andrew not to be such a stuffed shirt.

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Jack had his hand on Phryne's back as they headed back into the drawing room where Lady Fisher rang the bell,

'Coffee I think and a nightcap?'

'Lovely idea,' Henry agreed.

'Not for me, Lady Fisher,' Jack smiled, 'I think I'll head up. A very...interesting evening.'

'Good night, Jack,' she smiled, 'see you in the morning.'

'Goodnight.' He nodded his head and left the room.

Phryne gave him time to get half way up the stairs and yawned. 'You know, mother, I think I'll turn in too.' She kissed her mother's cheek, 'Andrew's quite hard work.'

'He is rather stuffy, isn't he?' Lady Fisher agreed.

'Complete idiot,' Henry declared, 'he's after you my girl.'

'Honestly father,' Phryne laughed, 'he'll never catch me.'

'Let him down gently, dear.' Lady Fisher said quietly, 'if you can.'

'Mother,' Phryne looked at her, 'he's so dense I'll have to spell it out in words of one syllable. I've given him no encouragement whatsoever, taken the mickey out of him at every turn and he still doesn't understand.'

'I know.' Lady Fisher sighed.

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Phryne sat at her dressing table and removed her make-up and brushed her hair. She put her jewellery away and then slipped out of her dress. Jack was right when he surmised she had little on under her dress and she was disappointed she hadn't had the chance to show him. She surveyed her almost naked self in front of the mirror and determined that no way was Andrew ever going to have the pleasure. She headed to the bathroom and washed and cleaned her teeth. Leaving the, little, underwear she had been wearing in the laundry basket she put on a cream silk nightdress and matching robe.

She sat in bed trying to read, but Andrew's obvious hatred of Jack kept creeping into her mind. He was jealous, of Jack's dancing, particularly the tango, which she had been very surprised at. She didn't like her friends being looked down on, but smiled at the thought of Andrew meeting the red raggers.

She closed her book and put it on the night stand. She felt she was always apologising to Jack and now she needed to apologise again. Well no time like the present.

She knocked on Jack's door and waited to be admitted.

'Come in.'

Jack had sat up in the bed, knowing it would be Phryne, Andrew had annoyed her, that he knew, but she had given more than she got.

'Jack,' she went to sit on the edge of the bed. 'I wanted to apologise. For Andrew and for me.'

'Why?' He asked. 'You did nothing wrong.'

She raised her eyebrows.

'Alright,' he smiled 'you teased him unmercifully, but he deserved it.'

'Really?' She scuttled up the bed and sat next to him, propped up on the second set of pillows, but with her body and legs over the top of the covers.

'Really.' He smiled. 'He's a drongo.'

She leant over and kissed him, lightly on the lips, the snuggled down against him.

He put his arm round her, 'Your feet'll get cold.' He pushed the covers down from under her and lay them over her. They spent the next half hour or so kissing. At first tentatively, then she parted her lips just enough for him to slip his tongue in to her mouth and taste the toothpaste and the hint of the cognac she had drunk after dinner. Their kisses became long and passionate until Phryne pulled away and breathed.

'Jack.' She slipped her hand down his side, dangerously low. He caught it before she went too far.

'Phryne,' he whispered, 'we're in your parents' house.'

Under normal circumstances Phryne Fisher would have been affronted, but not this time. This time she completely understood that he wouldn't be able to look her mother in the eye next morning.

'Can I stay?' She looked, wide eyed and, almost, innocent.

He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. 'As long as you behave yourself.'

'I will,' she whispered, feeling her eyes close. 'Perhaps we should go away, for a few days.'

'After Shakespeare,' his eyes closed too.

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So, will Andrew accept defeat? Will Phryne and Jack get away from the house, and can they stay out of trouble?

For those who have not read my other writing, I do not plan my stories, they just happen. Apologies.


	4. Chapter 4

Andrew Bertram Walsingham lay in his bed that night and seethed. He had set his mind on Phryne and when he set his mind on something, or someone, he usually got it. He went over the evening's conversations in his mind, and remembered that Phryne and that policeman were going to the theatre the next night. He knew which theatre and the route they would take home, he had to plan this carefully.

Andrew had a very high opinion of himself, as a man. Not an opinion anyone shared, not even his mother. He was a disappointment to her, nothing like his late father who was strong, intelligent and, in his day, quite a catch. Andrew was their only child, born far too early, everyone was surprised he made it through childhood but he did, and school and university. He got his own back on bullies with sneaking and telling tales, fisticuffs were not his line. Phryne had once said she hoped he stayed inside in a breeze, or he would be blown over.

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'So, Phryne,' Lady Fisher asked at breakfast, 'what are your plans for today? If you have made any, that is.' She smiled, Jack seemed to be surviving her daughter's tours of London.

'I want to get some books out of the attic,' Phryne swallowed a mouthful of fruit, 'Jack said he'd help me.'

'Oh, really, Phryne,' she scolded, 'he's a guest. Chivers can do that.'

'It's perfectly alright, Lady Fisher,' Jack interrupted, 'I'd like to. Phryne and I have similar tastes in literature.'

'Well if you're sure...' Lady Fisher stood up, 'I will be at the hospital board meeting this morning.'

'Which reminds me mother,' Phryne held out an envelope, 'perhaps this will help with the funds.'

Lady Fisher opened it, it was a cheque for a thousand pounds.

'I wasn't sure who to make it out to so you can fill in that bit.' Phryne smiled, 'it's from me and Jack.'

'Oh my dears,' Lady Fisher was truly touched by their generosity, 'it's so very kind of you.'

'It's something we both believe in,' Jack explained, 'we have done the same in Melbourne, for Mrs Stanley.'

'Well, thank you, very much,' she smiled, 'on behalf of those that will get to use the wing.'

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Breakfast over, Phryne and Jack headed to the steps to the attic. She had warned him that it was very dusty so he had dressed for the occasion in a pair of brown flannels that he generally wore around the house or garden, packed because one never knew with Phryne Fisher, a shirt and 'v' neck pullover. He had foregone the tie and left the top button of his shirt undone. Phryne had also thought the same and was wearing her flying trousers and a sweater he had never seen her wear before. Actually he had never seen her in a sweater. It hugged her shape rather nicely

The attic was indeed dusty, and smelt of old boxes and suitcases Cobwebs hung between the roof trusses and the light from the single naked bulb did nothing to lighten the place. Jack saw the small pile of books Phryne had found on her first foray into the gloom next to a box whose lid was not secured. He went over and checking there were no more books in there, put the lid on and pushed it aside.

He opened another box of what could only be described as knick-knacks , bits and bobs. He turned over several little boxes, checking the interiors before showing them to Phryne who would put them to one side or the other, one side to keep one to leave. In the bottom of the box there was a piece of paper, he turned it over and saw an old photograph of two girls. One was undeniably Phryne, the other Janey, it had to be. While she was looking in one of the boxes he slipped the picture into his pocket, feeling he could do something with it that would help her over the mountains she kept building for herself.

'What's that?' He asked as she pulled something from a box. He scooted over to look.

She held out a silver chain with a locket attached.

'We had one each.' She said simply. 'We always wore them. I noticed Janey's wasn't on her.' She put it back in the box and on the 'leave' pile.

Jack put his arm round her and kissed her temple, gently.

'I'm alright, Jack.' She smiled weakly. 'Thank you.' She tipped her head and kissed his lips briefly.

He moved back to the boxes, slipping the little box into his pocket to join the photograph.

They spent the next couple of hours sifting through boxes and piling books ready to be taken back to Melbourne.

'I suppose it might be better to ship them out separately,' Jack suggested as they carried them into her bedroom. 'You'll never get them all in the plane, with everything else.' He looked at her, 'I take it you plan on flying yourself back?'

'You could come with me.' She looked up from dusting a copy of Dante's 'Inferno', 'if you want.'

Jack looked at her. Wondering if he dare. Flying didn't bother him, but flying with Miss Fisher?

'We could make a trip of it.' She put the Dante to one side and picked up a matching copy of 'The Divine Comedy', 'I have to refuel often enough and we could have some fun...' she had a wicked look in her eye. He knew exactly what she meant, that they wouldn't be in her parents' house.

'Hm...' He carried on writing the list of titles for her, 'if I do, I should see if I can get the second part of my fare refunded.'

'Ever the practical policeman.' She teased.

'I don't have 'independent means', Miss Fisher,' he reminded her.

'I know, sorry.' She blew him a kiss which he pretended to catch and blow back.

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Phryne and Jack parcelled up the books and addressed them to Jane at her house, together with a note, just saying she would let her know when she would be returning to Melbourne, but it would probably be a month from the date of the letter.

'I need a shower,' Jack declared, once everything had been seen to.

'Me too,' Phryne grinned, 'shall we share?'

Jack bit back his agreement and looked at her with, what she called, his serious face.

'Alright,' she smirked, 'another time. See you downstairs for lunch.'

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Now more formally attired in his grey suit, white shirt and blue silk tie, Jack waited in the drawing room for Phryne to join him. They were due to see 'Private Lives' that night so they would not be dining at home. A light afternoon tea was ordered for before they went and then they were planning on a supper after the performance.

She entered the room in her more customary style. Black silk trousers with matching jacket, cream silk blouse and black shoes. She had tidied up her make-up and brushed her hair, more the Phryne he was used to seeing.

They had lunch, a light meal of salads, quiche, cold meats, fresh bread and fruit. A jug of iced water completed the meal, before Phryne asked Jack if there was anything in particular he wanted to do.

'Well,' he thought, they didn't have much time really, before they would have to change for the theatre, 'do you mind if we go to the airport and see if I can get that half of my ticket refunded, then it's done?'

'Alright,' she smiled, 'we'd probably forget otherwise.'

'I doubt that, but we don't have time to do much else today,' he smiled, 'if we're going to see that play that really isn't for well brought up young ladies.' He teased.

'Honestly, what a prize idiot,' She stood up and went to sit on his knee, 'he can't hold a candle to you, dear Jack.'

'Hm..' Jack squeezed her and kissed her, tenderly. 'Now, off my knee miss, before Chivers catches us and has a fit of the vapours.'

Phryne threw back her head and laughed, but obliged and slipped off his knee, heading to the door and holding her hand out. 'Come on then.'

Jack collected his ticket from his room and joined Phryne in the hall.

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The airport ticket desk was busy, a hold up as a young man was discussing rather loudly his need for a one way ticket to Australia. He'd had enough of this blasted cold country and was getting out. He was brandishing money but the young lady behind the desk wouldn't budge. She only did round trips, she said, sniffily.

'Jack,' Phryne nudged him, 'if he isn't running away from the local force...'

'Good idea,' he whispered, 'because I can't see her helping either of us.'

They approached the desk, passing now disgruntled passengers and fidgeting children. Who, thought Phryne, would travel to Australia with children on an aeroplane.

'Excuse me,' Jack touched the young man's arm. 'I think I can help you.'

'All I want is a one way ticket to Australia.' The man whined.

'May I ask why you won't be coming back?' Phryne asked gently.

'I...I can't stay.' He looked very much as if he was about to burst into tears. 'I thought she'd wait for me, my girl.'

Phryne thought she could see what was coming. 'She didn't.' She touched his arm, sympathetically.

'No, up and married my, so called, best friend.'

'I am sorry.'

Jack turned to the woman behind the desk, 'I want to cash in my return trip, but something tells me you wouldn't be willing to do that.'

'No indeed,' she sniffed, 'aren't you going back?'

'Not yet, and when I do, by another route.' He said, 'so how about, I sell my ticket to this young man and you just alter the name on it? That way everybody is happy.'

'Well, I don't know.' she huffed.

'You have a queue of other passengers waiting to show their tickets and board the plane,' he pointed out, 'I'm sure they'd be more than happy to bring this to a conclusion.'

The young man gaped at Jack and Phryne, 'You mean it?' He gasped.

'We do,' Phryne smiled, 'Inspector Robinson has other business here so won't be leaving for a while.'

'Oh, I don't know how to thank you,' he shook their hands, 'here,' he shoved two hundred pounds into Jack's hand. 'hope that's enough.'

It was a little under half what Jack had paid, but he was quite happy not to have to go through the same rigmarole the young man had gone through.

Phryne reached into her bag,

'Here, if you need any help call me,' she smiled, 'I'll be back in about a month.'

'Lady Detective?' The young man grinned, 'thanks, to both of you.'

The ticket was exchanged and even though the woman was still a bit sniffy she could honestly say that the ticket had been bought and was acceptable.

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With a little time to spare they headed to Hyde Park to walk for a while, content in each other's company.

'Jack,' they sat on a bench, 'you know last night, when you were the perfect gentleman?'

'Yes.' he didn't like the way this was going.

'Well, how about we go away for a few days,' She looked at him, 'just us?'

'I suppose so.' He mused, 'I would like to see something of the north of the country, where my grandfather came from.'

'Ooh, really!' She turned and took his hand, 'where?'

'Cumberland.' He smiled, the little time he had managed to spend with his grandfather had been spent with tales of the mountains and lakes, meres and tarns.

'Then let us fly,' she cried, 'on wings of song, or my aircraft, and explore Cumberland!'

He laughed at her and wrapped his arm round her kissing the side of her head. 'Alright, Cumberland it is.'

'Come on,' she stood up and help out her hand, 'time for tea and then the theatre.'

They walked arm in arm to the car, wondering whether to have a little cottage in Cumberland or brazen it out in a hotel. Well, those were Phryne thoughts, anyway, Jack would suggest two adjoining rooms in a hotel.

They were watched.

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Phryne glided into the drawing room where Jack stood by the fireplace talking to Lady Fisher. She smiled, her mother really did like him, which was good, even if Phryne wasn't the marrying kind. Phryne, again, had dressed to impress, she wore a floor length gown of gold. It was strapless and fitted, with a round necked, sleeveless and beaded over dress that came to the level of her knees. In her hair she wore a matching band, holding down her fringe.

'Miss Fisher,' Jack held out his hand, 'you look gorgeous.'

'Thank you, Inspector,' she adjusted his tie and allowed him to kiss her cheek. He offered her his arm, 'Shall we?'

Phryne allowed Jack to drive for a change, giving him directions to where they could park near the theatre and not too far away from the restaurant. They collected a programme and Jack bought her some chocolates.

Phryne had booked a box and they sat together enjoying the play which was superbly acted, some might say Mr Coward at his best, certainly that night, anyway. They laughed at the witty dialogue, and smiled at the sentiment in the song, 'Someday I'll find you,' which they both found rather fitted them.

'So, Miss Fisher,' Jack asked as they headed to supper, 'we're you shocked?'

'It takes a lot to shock me, Inspector,' she smiled at him, 'but I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.'

'I did,' he patted her hand, nestled in the crook of his arm, 'I doubt we'll see it in Melbourne soon.'

They were watched.

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Supper was delightful, declared Phryne, they chose a light meal of orange and grapefruit cocktail, consommé, roast duckling, with new potatoes, green peas, and a dessert of poached pear with chocolate and cream. They drank champagne and talked until the waiter started to yawn.

'Jack,' Phryne smiled, 'much as I am enjoying this evening I think...' she rolled her eyes towards the young man.

'You're right,' He smiled. Jack paid the bill, and they left still laughing, arm in arm, best of friends and nearly lovers. Phryne was enjoying being courted, it was new to her, to have a man pay her attention without expecting her to take him to bed and she felt freer this way. Jack disengaged himself from her arm to open the car for her. He was only half a step in front of her when suddenly she was grabbed from behind and dragged into a side alley. She uttered a little squeak before a gloved hand was clamped over her mouth.

Jack turned but couldn't see her. Scanning the area a streetlight caught a flash of gold, her dress.

In the alley she wriggled and kicked against the tall figure who tried to hold her tight. But his binding of her arms with his was not strong enough and she managed to free one arm and pull the hand away from her mouth. She called,

'Jack!' before wriggling round and pushing away. She pulled back her fist and, just as Jack rounded the corner she sent her assailant flying backwards.

'Phryne!' He was at her side. 'Phryne are you alright?' He wrapped his arms around her, 'Are you hurt?'

'No, I don't think so.' She looked up at him, and then at the figure that scrambled to his feet and ran past them into the street and away. 'I think it was Andrew.'

'Really?' He looked at her, visibly shocked.

'Uh huh.' She nodded, still breathing heavily. 'He should have bruised ribs and a sore nose.' She took her evening gloves off and looked at her knuckles, already bruising.

'Come on,' He took her to the car and made sure she got in this time. 'I want to get you home and check you're not hurt.'

'Really, Inspector,' she teased, wincing a little. 'He has bony wrists.' She rubbed her side.

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The only light in the house was the hall light, indicating that everyone else had gone to bed.

'If you go upstairs I'll get some ice for those knuckles,' Jack said, 'then I'll have a look at any other injuries.'

'Thank you, Jack,' she breathed and kissed his cheek.

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Phryne took off her clothes and put on a robe, before taking her make-up off and brushing her hair. Her hand was sore where it had connected with Andrew's face. A knock on the door had her turn round and smile as Jack came in with the ice for her hand and antiseptic for any cuts she may have sustained.

As he wrapped ice in a handkerchief and lay it over the bruises, he kissed her fingers.

'Why do you think he would do such a thing?' She asked. 'Surely he didn't think...'

'Well, he made it quite obvious last night that he wants you, and also that I am not of a high enough social class for you.' Jack sat back on his heels.

'Oh Jack,' she said softly, leaning in to kiss him, 'you're much better than him, in every way.'

Their kiss was deep and long, broken by a furious banging on the front door.

'I'll go,' Jack said.

He got to the door just as Chivers, dressed in striped pyjamas and a heavy dark dressing gown was opening it. A police officer stood there,

'I'm looking for an Australian, name of Robinson.' So, Jack thought, Andrew's blaming me, is he? Phryne appeared behind him, now dressed in her nightdress as well as her robe.

'What is it Chivers?' She asked, coolly.

'The police, Miss Phryne,' he grumbled, 'after the Inspector.'

'Show him into the drawing room.'

'Miss.'

In the drawing room, bathed in too bright light, Jack thought, Phryne sat down and Jack sat next to her.

'What can I do for you, constable?' Jack asked.

'We've had a complaint, sir.' The constable thought Jack looked a perfectly reasonable man, well dressed in evening suit, no immediate evidence of being in a fracas.

'That would be...?'

'That you did, with malice aforethought, hit Mr Andrew Walsingham and break his nose near the Phoenix Theatre this evening.'

'Oh, I see.' Jack said, pleasantly. 'He positively identified me, did he?'

'Sir.' The constable confirmed.

'Well, in that case, constable,' Jack said, 'I should have bruises on my knuckles, shouldn't I?'

'I should think so, breaking his nose an' all.' He agreed.

'Care to look.' Jack held out his clean, well manicured and unblemished hands.

'Well, sir,' the police officer scratched his head, 'I dunno.'

'I have bruises,' Phryne said quietly, 'on my knuckles, and one here.' She indicated her lower right rib.

The police constable looked at the hand she held out, unmistakable bruises were becoming more colourful.

'So, Miss...'

'Fisher, Phryne Fisher.' She smiled.

'Can you tell me what happened?'

She was just about to start her story when her parents bust into the room. Jack stood.

'Phryne, Jack, what's going on?' Lady Fisher gasped, looking from one to the other, Jack still in his evening suit and her daughter in her nightwear.

'Phryne was attacked,' Jack took Lady Fisher's hands in his, 'on our way to the car. I went to open the car door and she was grabbed from behind. She's fine, just some bruised knuckles and a bruised rib. This officer has come to find out the truth.'

'That would be...' Henry harrumphed.

'Andrew.' Phryne said, simply and without expression. 'he grabbed me from behind, but I fought back. It's not Jack's fault, father, mother. Neither of us expected him to be so bold.'

'Mr Walsingham came to the station to complain that Mr Robinson attacked him with malice aforethought, those were his words.' The constable explained why he was there.

'Where is Andrew now?' Lady Fisher asked.

'Mr Walsingham is at the hospital, madam.' the police officer nodded, 'having his nose seen to. It is broken.'

'Well, I shall be speaking to him tomorrow.' Lady Fisher snapped.

'Can I come too, mother?' Phryne asked, innocently, not for a moment thinking she would agreed to the request.

'I think you and Jack should attend, dear.' Lady Fisher huffed. 'That young man is going to get a piece of my mind.'

'I suggest, constable,' Jack said kindly, 'that you fill out your report and if you need us again, we'll be here, at least for a couple more days.'

'Yes, sir,' he nodded, 'of course.'

The constable shown out and Chivers sent to bed, Phryne requested a whisky.

'Go to bed mother,' Phryne kissed her cheek, 'we'll talk in the morning.'

Henry and his wife left the two in the drawing room sipping a medicinal whisky. As the door closed Phryne nestled against Jack's shoulder.

'You do realise,' she whispered, not looking at his face, 'you just told my parents we are going away together, don't you?'

'I suppose I did.' He held her close. 'Do you think your father will horse-whip me?'

'Hee hee,' Phryne giggled, 'he'll probably give you the horse-whip to keep me in order.'

'Come on,' he shifted to hold her hand, 'bed. I'll kiss your bruises better.'

'Inspector,' she breathed.

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As Jack was still fully dressed they went to his room. While he changed and used the bathroom Phryne dropped her robe on the floor and slipped into his bed. She felt very drowsy, so if Jack was going to kiss her bruises better she was unlikely to notice if he didn't get a move on.

He returned while she was still awake, just, and got into the other side of the bed. He took her hand and kissed each bruised knuckle, then gently up her arm to her face and then her lips which she parted just enough for him to slip his tongue in and taste her. Their kiss was long and passionate, only broken when Phryne needed to breath, before the lack of oxygen caused her to faint.

'Jack..' she sighed.

'Shh...' he kissed her again and she gave in, and Phryne never gave in. Breaking the kiss he looked at her.

'Now,' he kissed her nose, 'where is that other bruise?'

'Just here,' she pointed to her lower left rib under her nightdress.

He fingered the silk and deftly pulled enough of the garment up to expose the mark left by Andrew's wrist. He bent his head and gently placed a kiss over it. He could smell her perfume from the evening, her skin was soft and silky and she shivered with desire as his lips touched her, nibbling along to her belly button. She sighed with appreciation, and moved slightly under his ministrations.

'Jack,' she gasped, biting her lip, 'oh Jack.'

'Sh...' Jack paused, lifting her nightdress a little further, 'sweetheart, sh.'

Phryne could just about gather her senses to unbutton his pyjama jacket and push it off his shoulders, stroking his chest running her fingers through the spattering of hair. His hands, lips and tongue were doing thing to her she had never experienced, never thought possible but she knew that the fact that they were in her parents' house didn't mean anything tonight. She realised he had removed her nightdress and was now kissing and stroking her breasts, moving his hands down and touching her until she was ready for him.

She reached down and pulled his pyjama bottoms down, his hardness now against her and she let him take her, enter her and set up a rhythm that built until she tightened in a release that left them breathless and satisfied.

They fell asleep limbs entwined until noises from the house woke them and the sunlight streamed through the partly open curtains.

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Phryne lay in her bath musing on the night she had just spent with the Inspector. She looked at the bruise on her rib, a beautiful shade of purple, then smiled at the memory of Jack kissing it better, then...

Nobody had ever made love to her like that, nobody had ever shown her what it really was to be a woman. While, in the past, she had felt she was using men, possibly a reaction to the way Rene had used and abused her, she realised they had used her. But Jack hadn't. Jack had loved her, and now there was no one for her, but him.

The only thing that worried her was that she hadn't put her diaphragm in, and that could be a problem. He knew she used one, after all it made a good spider catcher once. Perhaps she'd better let him know.

She dresse; cream trousers, red blouse, red shoes, and applied her make-up, brushed her hair and headed out of the bedroom ready for breakfast.

She met Jack on the landing and they went down together.

Henry and Lady Fisher were just finishing, much to Jack's relief, he wasn't looking forward to looking them in the eye after making love to their daughter the previous night.

'Mother, father.' Phryne smiled, 'what time do you want to go to the Walsinghams?'

'I'm going to ring Betsy now,' Lady Fisher got up, 'and make arrangements.'

'Perhaps,' Jack cleared his throat and spoke, 'if you let her know that the police were here last night, and that I have to go down to the station today.'

''But you don't, Jack, dear.' Lady Fisher touched his arm.

'I don't but Andrew will have to, to recant his accusation.' Jack informed her, 'but Mrs Walsingham doesn't need to know that.'

'I see, I think.' She mused.

'It's just a case of Mrs Walsingham knowing what Andrew tried to do.' Phryne added.

'Well, if you think so,' Lady Fisher sighed, 'you know what you're doing.'

'Yes, mother, we do.'

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The Walsingham's butler opened the door and announced them. They were shown into a small sitting room, very personal to Mrs Walsingham, Lady Fisher told them, her own little space.

Betsy Walsingham was obviously nervous and even more so when she saw Inspector Robinson. She really didn't know what to think.

'Oh my dears,' she held out her hand to Phryne, 'you must have been so frightened.'

'Surprised, perhaps,' Phryne smiled, 'shocked certainly, but not frightened.'

'I know very well, Phryne, dear,' Mrs Walsingham went on, 'that you are quite adept at looking after yourself, your mother has told me quite a bit about your exploits in Australia,' she turned to Jack, 'Mr Robinson, do you have anything to say?'

'Only that it wasn't me that hit Andrew.' Jack stated the fact quite simply.

'But... he assures me...' Mrs Walsingham put her hand to her mouth.

'I'm afraid Andrew embellished the truth,' Phryne took her hands, she felt sorry for the woman, to be landed with a son like that. 'It was me that broke his nose.'

'You? But why?'

'He grabbed me, from behind,' Phryne told her what had happened, and said how sorry she was.

Mrs Walsingham left the room and called for her butler,

'Ask Mr Andrew to join me in my sitting room, please, Blake.' She returned to her 'guests' and asked them to sit down.

'I am so sorry, Phryne,' she looked at the young woman, 'he has really fallen for you, but I have always known he was not for you. I think you have your man.' She nodded towards Jack, 'Frankly, my dear, any man who can tango like that is quite a catch.'

Jack had the good grace to blush a little, Phryne grinned, thinking that was not all he could do!

Andrew blustered into the room and pulled up short. His face was badly bruised, if Jack hadn't seen Phryne's knuckles he'd have sworn she had used a brick!

'You!' He coughed.

'Hello Andrew,' Phryne smiled brightly, 'what happened to you?'

'That, that person hit me.' He pointed at Jack.

'Come on, Andrew,' Phryne scoffed, 'you know fine well it was me.'

'Phryne, you're...'

'A girl, yes I've noticed.' Phryne smiled. 'But, Andrew, you grabbed me, god knows why, and I fought back. I have the bruises to prove it.' She held out her hand. 'There's one here too,' she began to lift her blouse to show the one on her rib.

'Phryne!' Her mother shouted.

Jack put his hand gently over hers, 'I think that should be enough evidence, sweetheart.' He emphasised the last word to leave Andrew in no doubt that Phryne was spoken for.

'Andrew, why?' His mother appealed to him.

'She deserves a proper Englishman,' he snarled, 'not some...'

'...jumped up Aussie copper, who has to work for a living and has friends in the lower social classes.' Jack supplied, but without malice.

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Andrew apologised to the police for wasting their time after Phryne had pointed out that he was happy to make use of the working man when it suited him. He was ordered to pay a fine of fifty pounds and the same to a charity of Phryne's choice.

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Right, that's got rid of Andrew. Now, Shakespeare in the park, a trip north and then... Thank you for all the lovely reviews, it really is so nice that my stories/rambles are appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you for the continuing reviews, so glad you are enjoying the story.

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Phryne and Jack spent the rest of the morning walking in the city and taking in a few sights. Phryne wanted to do some shopping, some things she said she needed from Harrods. Jack reminded her that anything that wouldn't fit in the aeroplane would have to be sent on by ship.

'I know, but there are such things a girl needs, Jack,' she squeezed his arm, 'you wouldn't want me to look like the dregs, now would you?' She smiled sweetly at him.

'Even in your flying trousers and a sweater you look beautiful,' he bent to kiss her gently on the cheek.

'Hmm...' she mused, 'what are you after, Inspector?'

He winked, 'Wouldn't you like to know?'

Phryne giggled, she liked this softer, playful Jack, the one she knew she would only see when they were alone.

They wandered the halls of Harrods and Phryne bought, what to Jack seemed, an obscene amount of cosmetics, most of which he had no idea what they were used for, a couple of silk scarves, three new ties for Jack, that he insisted he didn't need, two new dresses for Jane, a pair of driving gloves for Dot; she was determined her companion should learn to drive; and the same for Hugh. She hoped to find something for the red raggers when they were away and also for Mr B.

They lunched in a small restaurant on the way back to the car, sandwiches and cake, and tea, they suddenly realised just how thirsty they were.

Phryne watched him eat and sighed. She still hadn't voiced her concern at her lack of thought the previous night about her diaphragm. There was a time and place for such discussions and, even Miss Fisher had to admit that lunch in a small London restaurant was not the place.

'Penny for your thoughts?' He noticed her distant look.

'Later.' She brought herself to the present and smiled.

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Back at the house, Jack helped Phryne put the last of the purchases into a crate ready to be sent back to Melbourne and he could see the longing in her eyes.

'When do you want to go north?' Jack asked her. 'You're flying the plane, after all.'

'Well we're at the theatre in the park tonight, but it's only a short flight, so...' she tipped her head to one side, 'perhaps the afternoon.'

'Sure that's not too soon?' He asked.

'I've had enough of London, Jack.' She sighed. 'Unless there's anything else you want to do?'

He moved round to sit next to her. It wasn't just that she wanted out of London, he could see she was looking forward to heading home, to Melbourne.

'I miss them too,' he put his arm round her shoulders and drew her close. 'Tomorrow afternoon will be just fine, darling.'

Finishing the packing of the books and things she had purchased that she wouldn't need immediately they then set about packing for their trip north and setting aside the things that they were sending by sea. It took them most of the afternoon, to decide what they would need, and trying to leave enough space in case they had to pick up anything in the lakes.

'I suppose we ought to book into a hotel, or something.' Phryne noted as they labelled the last of the boxes. All were addressed to her house rather than trying to separate out hers and Jack things. It was unlikely he would return to his house, except to ready it for sale. At least, that's what each planned.

'Mmm..' Jack agreed, 'but we also need to work out where we are going to land first.'

Phryne got out the maps she used when flying. 'Where did your grandfather come from?' she looked at him as she spread the map out on the table.

'Right in the middle,' he looked at the map, 'there.' He pointed to a patch of blue in the middle of the mountains.'

'Ok, so it looks like a good sized town, landing's going to be interesting,' she pointed to the map, 'hopefully we can find a pub for the first night.'

'Right,' Jack sounded nervous.

'Jack?'

'Well, dearest,' he smiled, 'booking into a pub as a couple, and you don't wear a wedding ring...'

'I see,' she smiled at him and kissed his cheek. 'Well, although we would be lying, I have posed as a wife undercover before, and I have a plain gold band I can use. If you can bear to deceive.'

'Nobody knows us here, in England,' he kissed her back, 'so I suppose we can get away with it.'

'For the first night, anyway.' She folded the map and put it with her flying clothes. 'Now, I believe Mr Shakespeare awaits us.'

'I'll leave you to make yourself magnificent,' he grinned and headed out of the bedroom.

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Phryne went to find Chivers and give him his instructions for shipping her boxes to Melbourne before she went to dress for the play.

'Yes, Miss Phryne,' he grumbled, 'it will be done.'

'And I'd like a couple of flasks of tea and small picnic for tomorrow, Mr Robinson and I are flying north for a few days before heading back home, to Melbourne.' She smiled and left him to his thoughts about her spending time away from the family home in the company of an unattached male. He shook his head as she left the kitchen.

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She found Jack in the drawing room with her parents. they were discussing the forthcoming trip without any apparent concerns. The Fishers had long since learned that Phryne would do what Phryne would do and if she was doing it with Inspector Robinson, well, at least he was stable, reliable. Though Phryne would shudder at those thoughts, that they were of the opinion he had tamed her!

Jack smiled as she entered the room. Tonight she wore a shorter dress, just below the knee. It was a deep navy blue drop-waisted dress, sleeveless, with an uneven hem. the shoulders were narrow and dropped to a round neck at the front and to a 'v' at the back, just below her waist. There was a silver insert at the back that filled the space from the point of the 'v' to just between her shoulder blades. Silver thread was woven into the fabric in a random pattern so it caught the light at every turn. She had a silver clip in her hair, simple but effectively stylish. Her shoes matched her dress.

'Have a lovely evening, my dears,' Lady Fisher smiled, 'and don't get abducted, if you can possibly help it, Phryne.'

'I'll do my best, mother,' she kissed her mother's cheek and she and Jack headed out into the hall. Chivers helped her into a satin coat that matched the dress and had a silver collar with blue thread woven in, a negative of the main outfit. Jack picked up the picnic hamper and they headed out into the late summer evening.

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The park was very busy, but they managed to find a suitable spot to lay out their blanket and cushions.

They snuck tender kisses between the acts, eating the picnic as they felt like it, feeding each other little bits of quiche and sandwiches, fruit and petit fours, sipping the champagne Chivers had chilled to perfection. The play, or what they caught of it, was excellently acted, beautifully staged and costumed. Katharina was spirited and sharp, Petruchio, snappy and quick. Although Phryne did remark he had remarkably skinny legs, for a hero.

'Trust you to notice,' Jack whispered and nipped her ear lobe.

Phryne giggled a sexy giggle, thinking she'd better take a bit of notice of Jack's legs sans trousers! She was sure she would find muscular thighs and well defined calves.

As the play came to a close and the last lines were delivered, Jack decided to join in Petruchio's penultimate line, 'Why, there's a wench...come on and kiss me, Phryne.'

She laughed and obliged, because, as she repeated his remark later, nobody knew them there!

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They took a slow walk home, safe in the knowledge that Andrew would not try anything again. As they rounded the corner to the house, Phryne took a deep breath, while she was prepared for night time activity this time, she was also aware she needed Jack to know she had been lax the previous night and she wanted to let him know before they got home. She didn't know why it was so important to tell him out of the house, but it was. She stopped and turned to him.

'Jack,' she looked down, instantly embarrassed and uncertain, 'last night...'

He waited, not wanting to provoke an outcry and also wondering if now she regretted it, because he didn't in any way, shape or form.

'...you know I'm careful.' God, this was not easy, 'that I have certain 'things', that I use.'

Light dawned and he smiled. Not wanting her to feel silly or whatever she was feeling,

'You forgot.' His voice was soft and held no recriminations.

'We weren't going to,' she looked up into his grey eyes, 'in my parents' house.'

'No we weren't.' he leant forward and kissed her, 'but we did.'

'You're not cross?' She opened her eyes wider.

'No,' he pulled her close with the arm that wasn't holding the picnic hamper, 'does it bother you?'

'Well, yes.' She sighed, 'I was a useless sister, I can't imagine I'd be any better as a mother, and, to be honest, Jack, I haven't a clue what to do with children much less a baby.'

'It hasn't happened, yet, Phryne.' He mumbled into her hair, 'it probably won't this time, and if it does, well, another of life's great adventures...'

She pulled away to look into his face, seeing a slight smile there,

'...and you like adventures, the great unknown, don't you?'

He felt her relax, as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

How, she thought, did he manage to make everything sound so... so... uncomplicated? She tiptoed up and kissed his chin.

'Let's go in, shall we?'

'Let's.' She linked arms with him and they headed into the house.

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Jack took the hamper into the kitchen, musing on the conversation they had just had. He and Rosie had not had children, though they had done nothing to prevent it. A child with Phryne was not something he had thought about, he was not against the idea, though he felt that as a middle aged police inspector he was a bit long in the tooth to be a father, oh well, he smiled as he headed up stairs, they would just have to see.

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Phryne had washed and changed into her pink silk nightdress, that she had put on the previous night and Jack had removed, all so he could minister to her bruises. She smiled, she still had the bruise. She slipped into his room and climbed into his bed.

Jack smiled at the sight of The Honourable Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective, in his bed.

'Hello, Jack,' she breathed, 'what kept you?'

He went over to the bed and sat on the edge. 'Well, Miss Fisher,' he brushed a stray strand of hair off her cheek, 'fancy seeing you here.'

He stood up and went in to the bathroom where he prepared for bed, washing and cleaning his teeth before changing into his pyjama bottoms, only, and they probably wouldn't stay on long!

'Jack,' she gasped, forgetting she planned to inspect his legs, she had felt his chest the night before, now she saw it, strong, muscular, a smattering of hair, definitely worth further inspection.

'Something wrong, Miss Fisher?' He grinned.

'Absolutely,' she sat up, 'you're over there and I'm over here.' She put her fists on her hips and pouted.

'So what do we do about it?' He stood there, arms folded.

'Come here, this instant, Inspector,' she playfully demanded, 'I need you to investigate something.'

He wandered over casually and sat on the bed. 'Now, what seems to be the problem, miss.'

'I have this bruise...' she indicated the place the bruise was under her nightdress, '...just here.' She looked from under her lashes.

'I'm a police officer, not a doctor.' He still didn't touch her.

'Oh, but Inspector,' she sighed, 'isn't it evidence?'

'Well, in that case...' He gently pushed the covers down leaving them over her hips and tweaked the silk of her nightgown up until it revealed the bruise.

'That looks like it needs attention.' He stroked it with his forefinger.

'Really,' she could barely speak or even breathe as he bent down and kissed her so softly it was whisper soft. She shivered with anticipation.

She put her hands on his shoulders and he continued to kiss along from the bruise, and raise her nightdress until he could lift it off her and drop it onto the floor. His lips had found her mouth via her belly button then her breasts then her neck and his hands strayed down between her legs. Every touch was tender almost feather light and she mirrored his movement with hers pushing his pyjamas down and freeing him. She lay back expecting him to dominate her like every lover had done, but he pulled her over onto him and allowed her to take charge, to set her own rhythm and release, arching her back and groaning in pleasure. He shuddered as she fell onto him gasping for breath. She wriggled up to nestle her head under his jaw and sighed.

He reached down and pulled the sheet over her back, stroking little circles down her spine.

He found it interesting that he seemed to be showing Phryne Fisher how to be loved. He thought he would be perhaps a little less than she was used to but something told him he was surprising her at every turn.

Phryne wondered what she had been doing for so long. Jack was more than she had ever known in a lover. That he let her take charge, when she had assumed, obviously quite wrongly, that he would be old fashioned and... well really she didn't know what.

Her eyes closed and Jack felt her go limp with sleep. He smiled, pulling more covers over her and falling asleep himself.

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'How was the play, darling?' Lady Fisher asked as Phryne entered the breakfast room.

'Very good,' Phryne drank some orange juice before helping herself to bacon, eggs, mushroom and tomatoes. she was just sitting down when Jack joined her, bending to kiss her cheek as Lady Fisher greeted him.

'Good morning, Jack,' she smiled, she liked the unaffected love he showed her daughter, 'I hear the play was good.'

'Good morning,' he smiled, knowing full well that Lady Fisher knew he was sleeping with her daughter, 'it certainly was, excellent performance, though Phryne thought that Petruchio had rather skinny legs.'

'Typical,' Lady Fisher rolled her eyes, Phryne tried to look innocent. 'So, you are leaving today?' She changed the subject.

'We are,' Phryne poured herself some coffee, 'up to the lakes then home to Melbourne.'

'Such a short stay, dear.' He mother frowned.

'I didn't know how long I was going to stay, mother, I told you that.' Phryne sipped the hot drink, one thing she was looking forward to was Mr B's coffee. 'London doesn't really excite me, anymore.'

'Oh, I didn't know Melbourne was so cosmopolitan now.'

'It's home.' Phryne reminded her. 'Where my, our friends are.'

'And you, Jack?' lady Fisher turned her attention to their guest, 'what do you think of London?'

'As a city, interesting, I like the history, but part of the reason for my trip was to go to the lakes, where my grandfather came from.' He smiled and started to eat his breakfast, which was rapidly cooling, and he didn't like cold eggs. 'I doubt I'll have the chance to come to England again so I suppose I have to cram in as much as possible.'

'I've never been to the lakes either, mother.' Phryne smiled.

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It was not going to be easy, leaving, Jack thought. He felt they were worried he was taking their daughter away, but in reality she was taking him, physically and emotionally. They had sorted everything out and in spite of planning to leave after lunch found that they could leave mid morning. With nothing else to detain them they said their goodbyes, promised to ring or write regularly and take care.

'Jack,' Lady Fisher pulled him to one side, 'I don't know what your plans are with regard to my daughter, but all I ask is, please look after her for me. She's reckless, impetuous, wild, but she is my daughter and I do love her.'

'I can't promise to keep her out of scrapes or stop her speeding, but I will do my best to keep her safe.' He smiled at her, 'and whatever she does, I don't ever want to change her, because that is the woman I fell in love with.' He bent and kissed her cheek, 'thank you for allowing me to stay.'

'It's been our pleasure, dear.' She smiled and squeezed his upper arm.

Phryne said goodbye to her parents, telling her father to behave himself and he was not welcome at her house in Melbourne _unless_ he brought his wife with him. That way she would know he wasn't running away from a card game or some other bit of trouble.

Henry shook Jack's hand and wished him good luck,

'You'll need it, m'boy,' he grinned, 'flying with her.'

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They filed the flight plan and she checked the plane over. It had been fuelled and serviced for her and she was happy with the work.

'Right, Jack,' she called, 'when I say, and keep your head out of the way, it makes a bloody mess!'

She started the ignition and he spun the rotor then climbed in.

'We'll be there for lunch!' She called from behind him. He turned and grinned, well here goes, he thought, crossing his fingers and sending a quick prayer up to a being he no longer believed in.

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It was a perfect day for flying, clear and bright and he found he was completely relaxed, her handling of the plane smooth and confident. They would have to land above the town, Keswick, they thought, and mind the sheep!

'Sheep!' Phryne had shrieked.

'Grandfather was a sheep farmer, so...yes...mind the sheep!'

As she flew she noticed how green everything seemed to be, with the bright blue lines of rivers weaving through the landscape. She thought she was going to like the north of England.

As they headed into the lake district the mountains rose around them, from the air it was breathtaking but Phryne had to concentrate on finding somewhere to land, somewhere that would make a landing strip for take-off when they left and was sheep free!

Jack pointed ahead, at the end of a lake there was an empty field, and, as she descended to take a better look, reasonable habitation close by. They were north of Keswick, but perhaps they could borrow or hire a car to get around, once they had found somewhere to stay. She leant forward and tapped his shoulder, giving him the 'ok' sign when he turned round.

The landing was relatively smooth, she didn't nose dive in a dip in the ground or bounce too much. As she said to Jack later,

'Any landing you walk away from is a good landing.'

By the time she had brought the plane to a halt and cut the engine people were coming over to them, she patted her flight bag, in which, just in case, she kept her small revolver. Jack, similarly, had his revolver in the inside of his coat.

'We can only hope the natives are friendly,' they had remarked to each other as they prepared for their trip that morning.

Jack stepped forward, 'Good afternoon!' He called, raising his hand in greeting. 'Hope you don't mind, it was the only flat place we could see.' He smiled as Phryne joined him.

A tall, elegant man approached them, dressed in tweeds and carrying a shotgun, which they were both relieved to notice was not aimed at them, yet.

'James Wendell,' the man in tweeds extended his hand, he felt himself a good judge of character and this chap seemed inoffensive enough, the girl with him was rather attractive, too.

'Jack Robinson,' Jack shook the man's hand and turned to introduce The Honourable Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective, ' this is Phryne...'

'Mrs Robinson,' James tipped his cap, before Jack could finish.

Phryne smiled and extended her hand, not removing her gloves. 'Lovely to meet you, Mr Wendell,' she said as Jack bit his tongue to hide the laugh that was about to emerge, well accommodation was decided, he thought.

'I suppose it was you piloting, Mrs Robinson?' He looked her up and down.

'Afraid so,' she grinned, 'I can move it, if you can tell me a better place to leave it. We need to find somewhere to stay for a few days before we head home. I'll also need to buy some fuel.'

'Well,' James turned and pointed to the stately pile behind him, 'we run that hotel there and we have room, as it's the end of the season, so you are welcome to book in with us, and I'm sure we can find someone that can provide the appropriate fuel.'

'Well,' she turned to Jack, 'we seem to have fallen on our feet, darling.'

'We do indeed,' he smiled and took her hand.

They unloaded the luggage they had brought and James had two of his staff take them back to the house while he told them a little of the house.

'We only bought Armathwaite four years ago,' he told them, 'it was a private house but as we already run another hotel we thought we'd expand the empire,' he grinned, 'so hope you like it.'

'It looks beautiful,' Jack surveyed the house, 'must take some keeping though.'

'It does, but as business gets going, in this industry, it gets easier.' They had arrived at the front door, and he showed them in to a large hall with a fireplace big enough to burn a small tree on, chesterfield sofas, deep armchairs and little side tables with flowers brightened the place. A few paintings on the walls, landscapes and a grand piano in the corner finished the decor. To one side, discreetly was a desk where a young woman sat, reading a magazine which she hastily slipped by her feet when they entered.

'Emma,' James smiled, 'Mr and Mrs Robinson need a room, the Langdale I think.'

'Ok Pa.' her rounded Cumbrian vowels contrasted sharply with her father's more refined accent.

'My daughter,' he smiled while rolling his eyes, 'she has had elocution lessons, but you wouldn't think it.'

'Father, really.' Now the cut glass English.

Phryne laughed, 'Don't worry,' she watched Jack sign them both in, 'my mother managed to get my Australian accent out of me.'

'You are Australian?' James gasped, 'I recognised your husband's accent but...'

'We came over after father inherited a title.' Phryne slipped her arm through Jack's as he turned to join them, 'I was educated here but I now live in Melbourne, we've been visiting the family.'

'Don't tell me you flew all the way?' James was aghast.

'I brought father back, he'd been visiting me.' She smiled at the memory of her father spending most of the time in the air gripping the sides of the plane. 'Jack finished working on a police investigation and flew in more comfort.'

'I did have to deal with German matriarchs trying to ally me to their daughters, dear,' Jack reminded her of his tales of his travels.

'So you say.' she teased.

They were at their room now, and James unlocked it. It was more of a small suite than a room. It was furnished in rich reds and golds, thick curtains at the windows and rugs either side of the dark wood four poster bed, and in front of the stone fireplace. There was a small, comfortable looking couch and an armchair by the fireplace and a side table between them. A wardrobe, dressing table with mirror and chest of drawers completed the bedroom furniture.

'You have your own private bathroom through here, anything else you need just ask Emma or myself and we will do our best to find it for you.' James handed the key to Jack just as a young man brought their suitcases up.

'Thank you, Mr Wendell,' Phryne gave him her brightest smile. 'I don't suppose we could have some tea, could we? We've been in the air since just after breakfast.'

'I'll see to it, immediately,' he bowed slightly, 'you must be hungry too, I'll have cook do you a light lunch. Dinner is at seven, and, as you are our only guests tonight I hope you will join Emma and myself.'

'That's very kind of you, Mr Wendell,' Jack stepped forward, 'that would be lovely, wouldn't it Phryne?'

'Indeed it would.'

The door closed, Phryne took off her gloves and jacket and flopped backwards onto the bed.

'Well, Jack,' she turned over and leant her chin on her hands, 'the natives are friendly.'

'Very.' He rolled his head, trying to get the knots out of his neck.

'Come here,' she sat up and crossed her legs. He sat with his back to her and she slowly worked at his neck, digging her thumbs into the sore muscles. He groaned in appreciation and closed his eyes. She leant forward and started to nibble his ears.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted them, for now, Phryne thought. Jack went to open it and saw a young girl with a tray loaded with tea, sandwiches, little pies, salad, cakes and biscuits.

She walked past Jack and put it down on the side table, then wordlessly, with a little curtsey left the room again.

'Oh,' Phryne giggled, 'well, big on conversation isn't she?'

'Come on,' he grabbed her and pulled her over to the sofa, 'you must be famished, I know I am.'

They drank the tea, hot and reviving, the sandwiches were made with fresh home baked bread, filled with hand cut ham and sharp mustard, creamy, crumbly cheese and pickle, the warm pies with chicken and vegetables in a smooth tarragon sauce, the salad was crisp and fresh and the cakes and biscuits light and sweet. There wasn't much left when they decided to stop and sat back on the sofa, Phryne's head on Jack's shoulder. Her eyelids became heavy and very soon he noticed she had dozed off.

Jack smiled and took her hand in his, the bruising still showing from when she had hit Andrew. He lifted it and kissed each knuckle softly, lovely, feisty Phryne, _his_ lovely, feisty Phryne. He held her close and kissed the top of her head, her hair still slightly messy from taking off her flying helmet.

They both dozed for about an hour before the maid knocked on the door. Jack stood up and quickly grabbed a two shilling piece before opening the door. It was the same maid as before and as she passed him with the tray, after bobbing a little curtsey, he dropped the coin onto the tray and thanked her, sending his compliments to the cook.

Phryne stretched and yawned.

'Hello, sleepyhead.' He leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed her cheek before heading to the bathroom. He came out with a big grin on his face.

'What's so funny?' She asked.

'That bath,' he smirked, 'you could get a whole family in there.'

'Ooh, really,' she was instantly interested, and went through to have a look. She came out with a similar smirk on her face, 'well, it will take a lot of water to fill it, and it would be a shame to waste it.' She tipped her head to one side and looked from beneath her lashes, coyly; something she had taken to doing of late!

'Would you like me to scrub your back, Miss Fisher?' He asked, pulling her close and bending to cover his mouth with his. Her response to his kiss was acceptance enough for him.

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Phryne sat with her back to Jack between his legs, which she now had chance to survey. She smiled to see she had been right, the thighs were muscular and the calves exceptionally well defined, probably from running after all those miscreants and thugs in Melbourne. She ran her hands down the inside of his legs leaning forward as Jack moved the sponge over her back in large lazy circles.

He smoothed the well lathered sponge over her shoulders and down over her breasts encouraging her to now lie on him so he could soap her stomach. She sighed with pleasure, she couldn't remember ever bathing with a man, it was always her sanctuary, the bath, a place to think, to relax away the cares of a case. The sponge floated out of his hands which now slipped between her legs as his lips nibbled and kissed her shoulders.

Her eyes closed as his now familiar touch began to excite her and she felt his arousal against her back.

Surely not! She gasped and sat up, slowly turning to see him smiling.

'Jack!' A surprised whisper and then a gasp as he deftly lifted her so she was astride him.

She bent over and kissed him as he carefully lifted her onto him and then let her take charge, again, the water moving in sensual waves around them until she groaned and then bit her lip to prevent the cry of satisfaction escaping. As he flooded her with his love she again remembered this wasn't in the plan. The plan was a bath and only a bath. She lay on his chest musing on the possible consequences. Although she hadn't always used preventative measures she had never caught, but, there was always a first time and she didn't know if it was Jack or Rosie that was unable to have children. Damn!

'Jack.' She was finally able to speak, 'you know this wasn't in the plan, don't you.'

'Sorry, love,' he kissed the top of her head while stroking her back. '...just can't help myself.'

'Neither can I, it would seem.' She sighed. 'It scares me.'

'Scares you?' He pushed himself up and looked at her, and, damn it, he thought, I've upset her, 'what does? Us? Potential parenthood? Phryne, sweetheart, whatever happens I'll be here, right by your side, every step of the way.'

'Jack,' she tried to stop the tears, as he put a finger on her lips,

'I'll leave you never, love you forever, all our past sorrows redeeming,' he sang the line in his soft tenor, reminding her of the Noel Coward song in the play that was too risqué for a young lady, especially one he had tried so hard not to fall in love with, the only case he had failed at.

She lay back against his chest, 'Oh Jack.' She hummed, knowing that, whatever happened it would be alright, even if she didn't know one end of a baby from the other.

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Normally Phryne wouldn't be so remiss, but it would appear that Jack has her completely under his spell!

Armathwaite Hall does exist but the owners names have been changed, and it did become a hotel after changing hands in 1926.

I'm sure that staying in the Lake District will not be plain sailing for our detecting duo.


	6. Chapter 6

They finally got out of the bath when the water began to cool. Jack wrapped her in the towel, as large as a bed-sheet and as soft as lambs-wool. He took a slightly less big one and wrapped it round his waist, taking another one to dry his torso.

Phryne, while never shy of showing her nakedness in bed, was strangely more reticent when it came to parading around the bedroom as she dressed. She stayed wrapped in the towel while she dried the places that were visible then slipped a robe on before dropping the large towel to the floor. Jack found it amusing and rather sweet, but also confusing, especially as they had just shared a bath.

He turned his back while she dressed, sensing she did not want to be watched. Still it was more than Rosie, who always dressed in the bathroom and always wore a rather plain and somewhat sensible nightgown in bed. In fact, Phryne and Rosie were poles apart. Phryne enjoyed making love, being touched and kissed all over her lovely body, Rosie let him take her for the sole purpose of becoming pregnant. Yet, with his, he had to admit, limited experience he found it easy to do things to his new love that he had never had the chance to try with his ex-wife. He put those thoughts to the back of his mind, that was the past and he should focus on the present, and the future.

As they had time before dinner they decided to walk in the grounds before changing for dinner. Phryne slipped on a pair of black trousers, white blouse that was almost masculine in design, a soft white cardigan style jacket and some flat black pumps so she could walk out to the plane and check it was anchored down properly.

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There was a cool breeze blowing across the lake, that they now knew was called Bassenthwaite Lake, as they walked to the plane, hand in hand. They checked the ties, added a couple more, just in case, then stood to admire the view.

'Why did your grandfather leave such a beautiful place?' Phryne asked.

'I never found out,' Jack slipped his arm round her waist, 'I do know he didn't seem to regret it.'

'Silly man.' Phryne remarked and turned to kiss his cheek.

'But if he hadn't I wouldn't have been born.' Jack pointed out.

'Mmm...' She pouted, 'a dreadful shame.'

He smiled and pulled her close, kissing her gently but firmly.

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James Wendell watched them from the house and smiled. He remembered when he would take the time to steal kisses with his late wife, Emma's mother, who he still missed after all this time. They had to be on honeymoon, he decided, they radiated new love. Well, if they wanted to have time to themselves, to learn how to live together, they had plenty of space here, unless they got a last minute booking.

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They wandered back to the Hall chatting about things they would do while they were there. They planned to ask Mr Wendell if they could scrounge a lift into town and see if they could hire a car for a few days. Jack said they probably wouldn't find a Hispano, and she would have to drive more sedately on the roads.

She threw back her head and roared with laughter,

'Perhaps you'd better drive, Jack, dear.' she squeezed his arm and pecked his cheek, 'you know I don't know the meaning of the word 'sedate'.'

Emma looked up from the desk as they walked in,

'Everything alright with the plane, Mrs Robinson?' She asked, slipping her magazine under the desk.

'Yes, thank you, Emma.' Phryne smiled and leant over, 'you don't need to hide the magazine from us, my companion at home is always reading some such publication.'

'Dad'll kill me if he sees me reading it in public,' she whispered, 'says it gives me ideas.'

'Oh, what ideas, may I ask?' Phryne had a naughty twinkle in her eye.

Emma showed her a film magazine, just like Dot would read, and momentarily Phryne's mind drifted back to her friend in Melbourne.

'I see.' Phryne patted her hand, 'well, I think you will make your own mind up, but I can see he loves you very much.'

They headed back to their bedroom to change for dinner.

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As they were dining with the Wendells they decided against full formal dinner dress, but Jack wore a suit of slate grey, white shirt and one of the new ties Phryne had insisted on buying him in London, dark grey, quite sober, given she chose it. Phryne wore a calf length rose pink silk dress, with cream 'v' inserts at the front and back, it was sleeveless but from the shoulders a drape of rose chiffon hung round the back below the insert and across the front; a diamond necklace and earrings and hair clip finished the outfit. she had chosen the jewellery she had brought with her carefully, just a few pieces she could wear with most things. She slipped a very fine gold band onto her ring finger, only because she didn't want to embarrass Jack, she herself didn't really care, but deep down the marriage-avoiding Phryne Fisher quite liked being addressed as 'Mrs Robinson'.

He smiled as she held her hand in front of her and looked at it.

'You don't have to, you know.' He nuzzled the back of her neck.

'Jack, they already think we're man and wife, I don't want to shock them or embarrass them because they made that assumption.' She leant back against him, encouraging his ministrations. 'It was my grandmother's.' She added as an aside. 'I wonder what she would think, about it being used like this.'

'I like to think, that if she was anything like you, she's be laughing her approval.' He planted a final kiss on her neck and turned her round.

'Given that she was three months pregnant when she married my grandfather, you're probably right.' She held out her hand as she passed him on the way to the door, 'come on.'

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Emma met them at the bottom of the stairs, desperate to see what this almost exotic creature would wear to dine with them.

'Oh, Mrs Robinson,' she gasped, 'what a lovely dress.'

'Why thank you, Emma.' Phryne smiled, 'I'm glad you like it.'

'We're in the private part of the house,' Emma smiled, preceding them across the hall, 'we thought the dining room would be rather impersonal for just the two of you.'

'That sounds lovely.' Jack agreed, a large, empty dining room would mean that conversation would be difficult, at least this way they had someone to talk to. While he liked the idea of intimate dinners with Phryne, in an open hotel dining room there would be nothing intimate about it and anything they said would be overheard.

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The private dining room was warm and inviting. Decorated in pale pinks and soft greens, a fire flickering in the stone grate it reminded Phryne of home, again. She couldn't keep her thoughts away from Melbourne, she had no idea why she was so drawn to going home. If it hadn't been for Jack...but she wasn't blaming him for keeping her away, she was enjoying being with him, and without any cases to deal with it did make it easier to learn how to be with just one man.

The dinner was hearty and well cooked, a starter of vegetable soup that rivalled Mr Butler's, followed by roast local lamb, fresh green peas and mounds of Phryne's favourite creamed potatoes. The lamb was tender and sweet, the gravy that went with it was full of flavour with a hint of mint and rosemary. Dessert was a sharp apple crumble and custard, that, if Phryne had been at home she would have fought Jack for the leftovers.

'I think I might have to steal your cook, Mr Wendell,' Phryne took the last mouthful of her dessert, 'for when Mr Butler is away.'

'I better search the airplane when you leave, Mrs Robinson,' He laughed, 'Mrs Potter has been with us too long for me to let her go.'

'Well, here's to her,' Jack raised his glass. 'That was delicious.'

'I shall tell her.' James smiled back also raising his glass.

They had talked over dinner of Phryne's home in Melbourne, her rise from grinding poverty to the upper echelons of London society,

'...there again, Mr Wendell,' she smiled, 'you can take the girl out of Melbourne, but you can't take Melbourne out of the girl.' Jack noticed her accent slip into the Collingwood dialect of her childhood and laughed.

'Of course,' James smiled and nodded. 'My parents started out running a small guest house, and then branched out into bigger establishments as the business expanded. I learnt from the bottom up.'

'Isn't that the best way?' Jack mused.

'I think so,' he agreed, 'my dear late wife was a waitress in my parents' hotel...and the rest is history.'

'So how did you two meet?' Emma was curious to know how a society heiress would meet a Police Inspector.

'Phryne trampled all over a crime scene.' Jack laughed, getting a black look from here. 'Seriously, she turned up at a crime scene with some pithy observations, practically solved the case in one fell swoop and ever since then she has plagued me, pinched the biscuits out of my tin...and been an absolute boon to the clear up rate.' He looked over and smiled at her. 'She does have her own 'business' as a Lady Detective, as well as helping us.'

'Gosh!' Emma gasped, 'isn't that a bit dangerous?'

'Sometimes,' Phryne agreed, 'sometimes more than a bit.' She wasn't usually so serious about her work, but this time...'I've been in some tight spots, haven't I, darling?'

'You have,' he agreed, 'very tight spots.' He thought slavery, gang warfare and involuntarily shuddered. Phryne gripped his hand under the table. He was just wondering whether or not to enlighten them on some of her scarier cases when the sound of the phone could be heard.

'Excuse me,' James got up, 'I'll just get that.'

Jack and Phryne decided to tackle Emma about the possibility of a car for a few days.

'Oh,' she grinned, 'you don't need to hire one. We have two so you could either use my little Morris or dad's Bentley. Dad's has more oomph.'

'That's very kind of you, but really...' Phryne smiled, 'we couldn't.'

'Oh go on.' Emma smiled, 'they don't get used enough, we can manage with one when you're out.'

'Thank you,' Jack grinned, 'we'll look after whichever one we borrow.'

James returned scratching his head, 'Well that's a turn up,' he smiled. 'A booking, big one too.'

'Really Dad,' Emma looked surprised, 'How many?'

'We'll leave you to sort out your booking,' Jack stood up and extended his hand to Phryne, 'you probably have a lot to do. Thank you for dinner, it was lovely as was the company.'

'I'm so glad we had this chance to talk, it's so rare.' James smiled, 'I shall see you in the morning.'

'Oh, dad.' Emma stopped them, 'Mr and Mrs Robinson would like to borrow a car for their stay. I suggested mine or yours.'

'Absolutely,' he grinned, 'best use mine.'

'As long as you don't need it.' Phryne said, bestowing one of her most engaging smiles on him.

'Please, it sits doing not enough.'

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Jack unlocked the bedroom door and stood back while Phryne entered. She turned and linked her hands behind his neck.

'I'm beginning to feel a little guilty,' she looked into his eyes, 'pretending we're married. They're such nice people.'

'Mmm..' Jack mused, 'they are, but I think if we came clean now...'

'That would be more than embarrassing,' she leant into his chest and breathed in the scent of soap and sandlewood, his preferred cologne.

'Of course...' he murmured thoughtfully into her hair, which smelt of her favourite Chanel perfume, '...but no.'

'What?' She pulled back and looked at him, her gut telling her what he wanted to say, but wouldn't, because it was what she had always pulled away from.

'Nothing,' he kissed her head and reached behind him to turn the key.

'Come on, Jack,' she leant back and grinned, 'out with it.'

He moved his hand to the waistband of his trousers, knowing full well what she meant.

'Not that!' She batted his arm, 'for goodness sake, Inspector, what do you think I am?'

'The woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, the woman I want to kiss all over, take in the beauty of her form, taste her lips, touch every part of her...' He was never so eloquent, she thought. 'Bloody hell, Phryne...I love you! I need you.' The last was barely a whisper, but the, albeit mild, curse kind of took the gilt off it, but, it was Jack.

He looked almost exhausted from his rushed declaration of love, but he meant every word. Life without Phryne was not worth living, infinitely safer, but not worth living like that.

Phryne stood mouth agape. Nobody had ever said anything approaching those sentiments before. She knew he loved her, he'd shown that, by putting up with her father, staying with her parents and even making love to her in their house, when he said he couldn't, because facing her mother the morning after...

'No, Phryne,' he stepped back and dropped his hands. 'It's not what you want, and I would rather have you like this, as a lover, than have you feel you were trapped. Because that is what it means to you, marriage for you is a trap, not security. For you it is a room with no doors and no windows.'

'And for you, Jack.' She reached out to take his hand, 'what would it be for you?'

'I would never trap you, never lock the door and the windows,' he looked down at the still very slightly bruised knuckles that she had disguised with makeup, 'I wouldn't ever want to keep you in a cage, as a possession, at my beck and call, bowing to my every whim, ironing my shirts, making my dinner. That's not the Phryne I am in love with.'

'So, if we were to marry, and I'm not saying I would accept...' she walked him over to the bed,

'You would be just you.' He sat down next to her, 'nothing would change, not even your name, if you don't want to. I will still be exasperated when you arrive at a crime scene, you will still annoy the hell out of me, go off at a tangent, pinch my biscuits, sit on my desk, charm my officers...we would still make love until the sun rose, because you are my sunrise and my moonlight, my sky, my earth...'

'Oh, Jack.' Suddenly tears were coursing, unbidden, down her cheeks, 'I, oh god, now you've made me cry, and I never cry, well not in front of anyone. Nobody has ever been as good to me as you. I must drive you mad, and even when you're angry with me, because of my own reckless behaviour, I don't feel wronged, or slighted or upset, I feel...I feel safe, protected. Nobody has ever protected me, just me.' She pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket, that matched the tie he wore, and blew her nose and wiped her tears. 'If that's a proposal,'

He nodded,

'Then I accept.'

Jack looked at her, as if she had grown another head,

'Really?'

'Really.' She smiled, almost shyly, 'and I'd be honoured to be Mrs Phryne Robinson.'

He reached his hand round her head and pulled her to him, crushing her lips with his own.

Enough clothes seemed to be shed at an unnatural speed, she was ready for him and he was in her before they were completely naked, rutting like wild animals until exhausted, a light sheen of perspiration, glistening in the moonlight that shone through the curtains, over their legs and lower bodies that had been exposed, breasts heaving as they gasped for air, they lay tangled together, gazing into each other's eyes.

Jack finished taking her clothes off and she finished undressing him before they wriggled under the covers and lay facing each other.

'Well,' she sighed, 'that was one heck of a proposal, Inspector.'

'I liked the way you accepted.' He kissed her nose then drew back and looked at her.

She put her hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes, sinking into the grey depths,

'Oh Jack,' she breathed.

'Shh...' he turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand, 'shh.' He pulled her close and stroked his arm down her back, reaching her bottom and pulling her against him, against his hardness. Her eyebrows flicked up and she gave herself into his kiss, his tongue playing with hers and her hands drifted down to his buttocks, indicating she wanted him, as much as he wanted her. His fingers strayed and touched her special spot, making her gasp,

'Jack, please, now.' She bit his shoulder trying to hold on, and there he was looking down on her, rhythmically moving until neither could contain themselves anymore and Phryne screamed his name in pure ecstasy.

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The hotel was a flurry of activity when they went down for breakfast. There was an array of bacon, eggs, tomatoes, all things they needed, hungry after their night of undiluted passion. James greeted them with a smile,

'Sorry, but we have a group from Manchester arriving this afternoon.' He set the coffee pot down on their table, 'apparently a family, quite a large one from our information, these are the keys to the Bentley.' He dropped a set of car keys on the table, 'have a lovely day.' He started to move off, 'Oh, there are several nice little cafes in Keswick for lunch and afternoon tea.'

'Sounds perfect,' Phryne grinned, 'we'll be back for dinner.'

'This will be your table' he smiled, and headed off.

'Looks like this is a bit of a big deal for them.' Jack spread his toast with local butter and homemade marmalade, 'a big party at the end of the season.'

'Sounds interesting,' Phryne mused, 'I expect fun and games.'

'Fun and games is fine,' Jack noted, 'murder and mayhem isn't.'

'Fun and games it is then.' She squeezed his hand.

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They motored into Keswick, Jack driving over the reasonable road through small villages finally finding where his grandfather had come from. A tiny hamlet with a small church and a few cottages. It was so peaceful and Phryne sensed Jack had a feeling of completion. If his grandfather had spoken of his life here, and it couldn't be an easy life, then this would, she hoped complete the cycle for him, for she was sure she was pregnant. None of the usual indicators she knew about, just a deep feeling, that she was no longer afraid of, because she had Jack. Maybe that was why she so desperately wanted to go home, to ensure that would be where her baby was born.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThey drove into Keswick and found a small cafe for lunch, just sandwiches and cake, a pot of strong tea. Everything homemade and delicious, filling too. Phryne suggested they walk round the town to work off some of the food before heading back to Armathwaite. She found a new cap for Mr Butler, he wore one when he drove her car and for the red raggers: similar headgear and scarves.

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The Bentley was easy to drive and comfortable with Jack behind the wheel.

'Shall we see if we can have a picnic tomorrow and explore?' Jack suggested, as they pulled up outside the hotel, 'if they have time, look at the number of cars that have shown up!'

There was about eight cars now parked in front of the Hall, assorted sizes and makes. Even if each held two persons that meant a further sixteen at dinner.

'We can always pick something up in Keswick,' Phryne stepped out of the car and waited for him to join her. 'Well, let's go and see what's turned up.' She held out her hand and they walked in together.

'Mr and Mrs Robinson,' Emma greeted them from her customary seat at the desk, 'did you have a nice day?'

'Lovely, thank you, Emma,' Phryne smiled, 'Keswick is a lovely town. You seem to have quite a lot of guests now.'

'Yes, fourteen have booked in.' Emma grinned, 'we usually find it very quiet at this time of the year. It's a fortieth wedding anniversary party. I think the whole family have turned up, even the children. I do hope they don't disturb you, they seen rather, er, lively.'

'Thank you for the warning,' Jack smiled, 'Would it be easier for you if we ate in our room tonight?'

'That's sweet of you, but when we told Mr Openshaw that we had guests from Australia he said you must join them at dinner.' Emma smiled, 'but, you could always have a headache.' She added in a whisper to Phryne.

'Emma, you are naughty,' Phryne giggled, 'but people watching is a hobby of mine, especially given what we both do.'

'As you wish,' Emma passed them their key and reminded them that dinner would be at seven.

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Jack ran Phryne a bath and said he would shower afterwards.

'Don't want to share with me today, darling?' Phryne pouted and traced her finger down his chest.

'We don't have time,' He took her hand and kissed her finger, 'I'll make it up to you later.'

'I'll hold you to that.' She grabbed her robe and flounced into the bathroom.

While Phryne was in the bath he laid out his clothes, dinner dress tonight, he thought. As he pulled his clothes out of the wardrobe the light caught the gems in Phryne's red dress, the one she had captivated Andrew in. That night had confirmed for him that she was the woman he would spend the rest of his life with. He pulled it out and hung it on the wardrobe door.

He was lying on the bed in his robe when she finally came out of the bathroom wearing her robe and towelling her hair. She smiled at him then looked up at the wardrobe.

'Choosing my clothes are we, Jack?' She looked put out, he thought.

'I, er...' he stuttered, he'd promised not to treat her as a possession and here he was inadvertently doing just that, 'I...sorry, it's just..., I like you in that one.'

She let him stew for a few seconds, to him it seemed like a lifetime, this could easily make her doubt her decision to marry him, then she laughed.

'Jack, I think it's just the right frock for a night like tonight.' She leant over and kissed him, and he sighed in relief. 'Your turn.' She nodded towards the bathroom and he was only too happy to escape.

Phryne sat at the dressing table and looked in the mirror. The first thing she needed to do was dry her hair but she had no dryer. She rang the bell for the maid, hoping it was one with a voice. Miss Silentium, as she had dubbed the one who had brought them their lunch the previous day, almost unnerved her.

Eventually there was a knock at the door.

'Come in.' She called brightly.

'Did you want something, Mrs Robinson,' it was Emma, who, on seeing the dress gasped.

'Emma,' Phryne noticed her reaction, 'dear, I don't suppose you have a hairdryer I could borrow, do you?'

'I do.' Emma smiled, 'I'll just be a minute.'

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Emma brought the hairdryer and helped Phryne do her hair.

'Thank you, Emma.' Phryne smiled, 'but don't get into trouble on my account.'

'I won't,' Emma coiled the cable up, 'but I best be off, now. See you at dinner.'

Dressing for dinner was when Phryne missed Dot, who would hold her dresses so she could just slip them over her head,

'Going soft, my girl.' She told herself, but Jack would have to help her with this dress.

She was applying her makeup when he came out of the bathroom, his robe over his underwear.

'Did I hear Emma?' He started to dress.

'Yes, she leant me her hairdryer and helped me.' Phryne smiled. 'She also gave me the low down on the Openshaw's.'

'Really?' He buttoned his shirt, 'and?'

'Industrial money. Munitions during the war.' Phryne grimaced, 'now machine parts. Bit of a blusterer. Nice little wife, shy. One son and his wife, their two children, who won't be at dinner, too young. Two daughters, unmarried, sombre types, bit staid. Elder son in Peru, archaeologist. Various other members of the family, his sister and brother in law and their daughter and her two sisters and one brother in law.

'Blimey!' Jack went over to her for her to do his bow tie. 'Quite a crowd. Could be interesting.'

'Help me with my dress, darling.' She handed him the garment and took off her robe revealing her perfect breasts and the only underwear she could wear, a pair of red silk knickers. 'It goes over my head.'

'Right.' He slid the yards of red fabric over his arms and guided it over her head catching her hands to take them through the armholes. She held her arm out of the way for him to fasten the tiny clips at the side, then wriggled to get the fabric to sit perfectly.

'Beautiful.' He breathed and kissed her forehead.

'Thank you.' She kissed his cheek lightly, then wiped the merest smudge of lipstick off with her thumb. She handed him her diamond necklace and he fastened it round her neck while she put it the matching earrings.

'Less is more, don't you think?' She turned and stood ready for inspection. While her jewellery was undoubtedly expensive and very high quality it was also simple in its design and that simplicity was perfect against her lovely neck, and the small matching clip in her hair was offset by the shining black cap of her hair.

'Absolutely,' he offered her his arm and they headed down to the dining room.

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They entered the dining room and stood for a moment, surveying the Openshaw family. Mr Openshaw was much as Phryne expected, large, moustachioed and ruddy of cheek. Emma came over to them and offered to introduce them.

'Mr Openshaw,' she smiled, 'may I introduce the Honourable Phryne Robinson and her husband Inspector Jack Robinson of the Victoria State Police?'

Phryne contained her smile as Emma used their full titles that she had gleaned when they had dined the previous night.

Henry Openshaw turned and gaped at the vision in front of him, wondering how the hell a copper caught a society lady like this one, his wife, small and pretty, dug him in the ribs,

'Uh, yes, of course, delighted.' He shook her hand, dwarfing it in his own large hand, but thankfully he didn't use the full extent of his grip or Phryne thought she'd be left with an amorphous mass of blood and crushed bone.

'It's so generous of you to allow us to join you,' Phryne adopted her cut glass upper class English accent.

'The more the merrier,' he gushed.

His handshake with Jack was a little more crushing, 'Inspector, eh? Much crime in Australia?'

'No more than anywhere else in the world,' Jack replied.

The waiter brought round Champagne, Jack handed Phryne a glass and he took one.

'Congratulations.' He raised his glass, noting that the man hadn't bothered to introduce his own wife, forgotten when he clapped eyes on the vision in red. Phryne sipped her drink as she decided to engage the woman in conversation.

'Mrs Openshaw, I assume,' She held out her hand.

'Oh, yes of course, my wife, Georgina.' Mr Openshaw suddenly realised he was forgetting his manners that Georgina had tried to drum into him.

Georgina held out her hand and smiled, Phryne wondered how such a sweet woman had got lumbered by this oaf.

'Lovely to meet you, Mrs? Robinson.' She was unsure how to address the Honourable.

'Just call me Phryne,' the so named lady smiled.

'Let me introduce you to the rest of the family.' Georgina moved away from her husband rather pleased to have someone other than him to talk to. Henry, meanwhile buttonholed Jack about crime and punishment. Phryne smiled, she'd have to reward him later.

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Mr Openshaw had chosen the menu, a starter of a mixed fruit salad with tiny crumbles of cheese hidden through it. Phryne found it light and refreshing after the metallic after taste of the champagne, that she had neatly hidden away before getting any further than her first sip. The only person that noticed was Jack, who knew that she would drink champagne any time it was offered. The glass of Chablis at her place also remained untouched.

As the waiter removed their empty plates Jack quietly asked for a couple of jugs of iced water to be placed on the table, as a palette cleanser, he told Mr Openshaw. Phryne looked across and smiled, again he needed to be rewarded.

The dinner continued through a fish course of grilled local rainbow trout, roast beef with all the trimmings and a choice of a sticky date sponge with a treacle sauce, or meringues with raspberries and cream. Phryne chose the meringues the main course having settled heavily for her. So this is what it's like to be pregnant she thought, all the while keeping up a conversation with Henry's daughter, seated on her right.

'You haven't touched your wine,' Mrs Robinson,' Josephine, Henry's younger daughter noted.

'No,' Phryne smiled, 'I don't care for it, wine, that is.' Which was a lie, Phryne liked wine and champagne, liqueurs and whisky, but at the moment the iced water was what she preferred.

'Neither do I.' Josephine scowled, 'I really don't understand why anyone would drink it. It leads to behaviour most unbecoming.'

'Riiight,' Phryne hesitated, 'but, on the right occasion...'

'Never.' Josephine was not inclined to agree.

'A little champagne, Josie,' her sister, Lucy, on Phryne's left, suggested, perhaps...'

'Now, Lucy,' Josephine scowled, 'you know what it leads to, rowdy behaviour, drunkenness, lewd behaviour.'

Phryne choked on a raspberry.

'Phryne,' Jack called across the table, 'are you alright?' He got up and went to slap her between the shoulder blades. He gave her a glass of water and waited until she had composed herself.

'Jack,' she gasped, 'thank you.' She reached for his hand and looked at him, amusement in her eyes.

Lucy decided to change the subject, it was apparently shocking for Mrs Robinson.

'So, Phryne,' she smiled, 'such an unusual name, I don't think I've heard it before.'

Jack could see where this was leading and went back to his seat.

'It is, isn't it.' Phryne smiled that particularly wicked smile she had, 'she was an ancient Greek courtesan. Father had been celebrating when I was born and got the name wrong, it was supposed to be Psyche.'

Josephine spluttered, Lucy blushed, Jack grinned and Phryne finished her dessert, innocently.

'Oh my dear,' Georgina Openshaw smiled, 'how perfectly exotic.' Henry just smiled it was obvious his education didn't extend to the meaning of the word 'courtesan'.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' Emma stood in the doorway, 'coffee and liqueurs are served in the drawing room and space has been made for dancing, should anyone wish to.'

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Henry decided her had to ask Phryne for a dance and whirled her, clumsily, round the dance floor. Jack watched her, clearly uncomfortable, which was unusual, but Henry was out of time and too fast, so he decided to cut in. Phryne was more than a little relieved, she was beginning to feel dizzy, so unlike her. Jack took her in a perfect waltz as the rest of the party joined in.

'You ok?' he whispered in her ear, 'you didn't drink any wine, and you went a little pale just then.'

'I thought the wine a little...off.' She leaned against him through a reverse turn.

'Oh,' he smiled, 'do you think...I mean my sister's taste's changed when...' Difficult questions to ask, as, although they had spoken about the possibility when she forgot her diaphragm, but...

'I'm certain.' She squeezed his arm, 'I think that's why I want to go home.' Her eyes started to fill with tears. 'I haven't had what I believe are the usual pointers yet, but..'

There was a scream, they turned, Henry Openshaw was on the floor, clutching at his throat, gasping for breath, eyes wide with fear. Jack and Phryne stopped dancing and flew across the room to him. Georgina stood looking down in horror, the rest of the room stood as if in a tableau. Henry Openshaw took his last breath.

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Phryne asked Emma to get the rest of the family out of the room, while she and Jack examined the body as best they could.

'Inspector Robinson,' Emma returned to the room, 'what do you want me to do?'

'Lock down the building, nobody leaves and nobody enters.' He looked up, 'get your father to call the police, I assume there is a station close by.'

'There's one in Keswick,' She left the room.

'Now what?' Phryne asked.

'Can you see any reason why he would have dropped like this?' Jack sat back on his heels.

'Not yet,' She undid the tie round Openshaw's neck and the top two buttons of his shirt. Turning his head from side to side she looked for clues. The man had been clutching at his throat indicating her was choking, fighting for breath, 'Jack, look.' She pointed to a tiny bloody mark on the man's collar.

'Cut himself shaving?' Jack pondered, 'but...no, not a razor cut.' He looked closer. 'I need a magnifying glass.'

Phryne stood up and went to the door. She looked about and saw a waiter.

'You,' she called him over, 'can you find me a magnifier?'

'Er...'

'Well?'

'Yes, madam,' he headed off, Phryne's tone had been sharp but this was no time for pleasantries. He returned quickly, a magnifying glass in his hand.

'Thanks,' she took it and gave him a quick smile, oh for Hugh, she thought.

'Jack,' she handed the glass to him and watched.

'See, here,' He handed the glass to her, 'what do you make of that?'

She peered closely, 'A pin prick?'

'Hm...' he stood up, 'would a pin prick bleed that much?'

'No, I don't think so,' She looked in her clutch bag, 'does it?' She reached over.

'Ow!' he pulled back his hand, 'Phryne!' He looked to where she had stabbed him with something. 'what..?'

She held up a safety pin, 'Always carry one.' She grinned, 'my mother said you never knew when you would need one for... So, any blood?'

'Not as much as him.' Jack rubbed his hand. She reached over and took the hand and kissed it, 'sorry.'

'Hm.' He moved the collar away from the neck of the deceased, 'Phryne, hold that.' He indicated the shirt, 'keep it away from the neck.'

He picked inside, carefully, then pulled something out. Between his thumb and forefinger her held a fine dart. A wider bore than the safety pin. He put it into his handkerchief and held it out to her.

'A blow pipe?' She gasped, 'but how?'

'The window was open,' Jack pointed to the outer edge of the room. 'Dammit, Phryne,' he stood up and extended his hand, 'it's murder.'

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So, how, why and who?

Not fun and games after all.

Sorry it took so long to get to the murder, I tend to get bogged down in detail.


	7. Chapter 7

**First I would like to say a big thank you for the lovely reviews posted for this story/ramble: Charlotte you are so generous with your praise, Cheyenne04 the lake district is where I grew up for the first 14 years of my life and still a place I visit when I can, not very often due to circumstances, but there you go. And everyone else who chooses to go on this journey with our beloved Lady Detective and her Inspector.**

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'James, would you close the windows, please.' Jack was under no illusion that whoever had used the blowpipe would have flown the scene by now.

'Right.' James did so and came and stood looking down on the body of Henry Openshaw. 'The police are on their way and the police surgeon. When I told them what had happened they suggested it. I don't know what happens in Melbourne, but our force, while pleasant are not, what you might call, particularly effective.'

'Ok,' Jack stood up, still holding the dart, 'do you think there might be a clean jar in the kitchen, with a lid?'

'I'll ask Mrs Potter.' He headed off then turned, 'Inspector, I know it's an imposition but, would you investigate this case. I'd like it to be as discreet as possible.'

'Well,' Jack smiled, 'I don't want to tread on any toes, and I am not just from another force, I am from another continent, but I'll do my best.'

'What's the surgeon like?' Phryne asked, thinking of Mac.

'He's a local doctor, they call him in when unexplained deaths occur.' James told them, 'he'll do his job, won't get in the way. He's young and therefore more enthusiastic than the previous one, who was, shall we say, a little jaded with life.'

'Right.' She mused.

He left to get the jar and Jack looked at Phryne.

'You do realise our true relationship could come out, don't you?'

'I shall assist you in my professional capacity as a private lady detective, Jack, that way I shall operate under my maiden name.' She smiled, 'we don't need proof of our identities, do we?'

'No, but shall we take steps to actually get married,' he whispered, 'not here, but on our journey home.'

'Aunt P is not going to be happy at not getting to organise my wedding.' She grinned.

'Some things have to be born, dear,' he grinned back, 'with fortitude, it can't be helped.'

Somehow talking about getting married over a corpse seemed totally normal for the two detectives.

'Shall I go and talk to the family?' Phyrne asked, thinking they'd have to get on and do something about getting background on the family. They only knew what they had seen that evening.

'Yes, find out what he was like,' Jack agreed, 'I have a feeling he was controlling, his wife seemed almost overlooked by him.'

'See you later.' She patted his cheek affectionately as she passed him on the way to the dining room.

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Their seemed to be a general air of sadness and wonder mixed together in the dining room. Phryne could hear whispers of 'There, there, mother,' and 'don't upset yourself,' though how someone could not be upset at the death of a spouse, someone who you had been married to for forty years, was bewildering to Phryne, who was also wondering if she and Jack would make it that far. Still, first the widow, she approached Georgina gently. She had been crying, no surprises there, but her eyes were now dry. She sat erect in a chair, her elder daughter, Lucy, holding her hand and weeping uncontrollably. Josephine stood on the other side of the chair looking daggers at her sister, and pursing her lips. Henry's son and his wife were standing by the window, deep in conversation, she wringing her hands, he holding her by the shoulders. Georgina's sisters and brother in law were standing to the side, watching but not showing any particular emotion, vaguely aloof from everything.

'Mrs Openshaw, Georgina,' Phryne crouched in front of her, 'may I offer my sincere condolences.'

'Oh my dear, how kind of you,' Georgina sniffed but did not start to cry, 'I just don't understand how this could happen. You will help won't you? I mean you and the Inspector, please.'

Phryne patted her small hand, 'We have sent for the local police but Mr Wendell has asked us to look into your husband's sudden demise.'

'Thank you.'

'You do understand that I have to ask questions, of all of you, don't you?' Phryne was gentle, her voice soft yet insistent.

'Of course.'

'What was your husband like?'

'He wasn't an easy man to live with,' a simple statement that the Lady Detective was not surprised at. 'Strong willed, things had to be done a certain way...'

'Mother, he was a bully!' Her son, Albert, called across the room.

'Albert, please.' Georgina looked up, 'he was your father.'

She turned back to Phryne, 'Henry grew the business out of his own hard work. I was eighteen when we married. He was strong, handsome, and promised to work hard to provide for me, and he has done, in his own way.'

Phryne saw complete loyalty to the man she married, obviously blind, or turned a blind eye, to his transgressions.

'He wasn't without fault.' She smiled, 'as the business grew and we began to move in higher society he felt uncomfortable. He needed some guidance on social niceties, but, Henry being Henry, didn't really like being coached to be a gentleman, he could sometimes be cross with me, reminding him of his manners, but he didn't mean anything by it.'

'Perhaps a little embarrassed?' Suggested Phryne.

'Yes that was probably it.' Georgina brightened at someone finding a reason for Henry's bluster and bad temper before a function.

'I'd like to speak to each of you, in turn,' Phryne stood, 'I think in Mr Wendell's office, if he doesn't mind.'

'You think my husband was murdered, don't you, Mrs Robinson?' Georgina whispered.

'We have to cover all possibilities.' She smiled and went to find Mr Wendell and see if she could commandeer his office for interviews. Jack may need it too.

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In the hall a rather large, gruff police man, a sergeant by the look of his stripes, was muttering over the phone.

'Sir,' he hissed, 'he's an Aussie!'

A pause while listened to his superior officer, his brows deeply furrowed then he harrumphed,

'If you say so, sir.' He put the phone down, none to gently and headed back to the drawing room.

Phryne smiled, obviously he'd been told that Jack was in charge. God only knew what would happen when he found out that a woman was the Inspector's next in command!

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James was happy to vacate his office for interviews and provided a jug of iced water and several glasses, as well as paper and several pens and pencils.

Phryne decided to leave Albert Openshaw and his wife until last. She was interested in what the sisters would have to say about him, and the in laws too, what were their thoughts on Henry Openshaw?

She asked Josephine and Lucy to come into the office. She found it odd that it seemed to be the younger of the two who was in charge. A strong woman, Josephine was probably very much like her father. Her dress was black, a drop waist, from which hung a soft pleated skirt. It had long sleeves, and a round neck. Some self coloured embroidery down the front panel was the only adornment. She wore no jewellery or hair decoration. Black stockings and sturdy shoes completed her outfit. It had to be said, Josephine was no beauty, striking was the kindest thing one could say about her looks, favouring her father.

Lucy was more like her mother. Fair and pleasant looking, she also wore black but on her it looked somehow more feminine. Her dress was again of a similar style to her sister's but the embroidery was colourful, small flowers and leaves, and extended round the neck. Her stockings were skin toned and her shoes, although black, were lighter Mary-Janes. She wore a black clip in her hair, probably jet.

Phryne began by asking them about their relationship with their father.

'He was a good father.' Josephine stated, as if that was enough.

'How would you define a 'good' father?' Phryne asked, wondering what _did_ constitute a 'good father'.

'He provides, provided for us. ' Josephine wondered what she meant, 'we have never been short of a warm home and food. He has made sure we have been educated as befits a woman.'

'University?' Jane wanted to go to university, Phryne thought that was a good idea.

'Secretarial for Lucy, book-keeping for me.' Josephine pursed her lips this woman's questions were a little personal.

'Oh, and you are happy with that?' Phryne couldn't imagine sitting in an office faced with figures every day or typing the kind of correspondence she was inclined to receive from her solicitor or the bank. It would drive her mad.

'Of course,' Josephine said, 'it means I can do the books for the factory and Lucy the correspondence.'

Phryne didn't say anything but it struck her that they probably wouldn't get paid and he would have cut his costs by letting his current staff go.

'May I ask,' Phryne was sure she wasn't going to get an answer to this question, 'what will happen to the business now?'

'I don't think that is any of your business, Mrs Robinson.' Josephine stood up and dragged her sister up by her arm, 'come Lucy.'

Phryne watched them go and shook her head, she would try to speak to Lucy when her sister wasn't about.

She turned her attention to Georgina's sisters and brother in law. Calling them in together, unorthodox she knew but it was getting late and Jack could always go over her initial findings later.

Catherine was the unmarried sister and had only attended on the express invitation of Georgina. She was quiet and sweet, totally unaffected.

'Father didn't want Georgina to marry Henry,' she told Phryne, 'he said he would never amount to anything and he was rather er, forthright.' Phryne thought she was hiding something.

'Forthright!' Her sister, Rosemary snapped, 'a bully and you well know it.' She turned to Phryne, 'Mrs Robinson, Henry Openshaw controlled my sister. He had affairs every time she was lying in after giving birth, his appetites...'

'Rosemary!' Her husband shouted, 'no!'

'You know he tried it on with me, after Albert was born, Stephen.' She rounded on him, 'and what did you do? Precisely nothing!'

'For goodness sake, Rosemary,' he hissed, 'you can't go round saying things like that.'

'What the truth. That he was a sex mad beast, anything in a skirt!' She spat. 'If you're examining his body you'll find a scar on his upper left thigh. I gave him that with a letter opener, because my milksop of a husband turned a blind eye! I'm glad he's dead.' She stood up and pulled her silver grey beaded shawl around her shoulders. 'I think that should be enough for you, Mrs Robinson.'

Phryne watched her go, 'Thank you, Mrs Cook.' And she was gone.

'I do apologise, Mrs Robinson,' Rosemary...'

'Is frank, open and probably telling the truth, unless she has something to hide.' Phryne sat back in the chair, 'Mr Cook, have you anything to add to her...comments?'

'If Georgina found out...'

'Georgina knows.' Catherine said quietly. 'Rosemary told her.' She turned to the Lady Detective, 'Rosemary and Georgina were always close, told each other everything. Our mother died when we were young. Rosemary kept us together, father fell apart.'

'So who is the eldest?' Phryne couldn't see the ages in these ladies. Georgina looked like she was the eldest, Rosemary, although a little more free with the make-up looked younger and Catherine could be somewhere in between but she was sure she was wrong, she didn't like being wrong.

'Rosemary and Georgina are twins, I'm the baby of the family, by ten years.' Catherine smiled. 'Rose is the eldest by twenty minutes and always has been the one to sort us out.'

'Right,'

'Catherine, this is not for public disclosure.' Stephen tried to stop her.

'Oh for god's sake, Stephen,' She snapped, Phryne was enjoying this enormously, Stephen's discomfort, 'Henry was a bully, he tried it one with Rose, nearly succeeded...if it hadn't been for that letter opener... I had to dress the wound, Rose was hysterical he threatened her with the police, until I pointed out that he would have to explain how she came so close to cutting his manhood off!'

Phryne stifled a giggle.

'I went to see Georgina, after Lucy was born,' she continued, glad to get it off her chest, 'he was there. She'd had a bloody time, the doctor messed her up, god knows how she managed to have Josie, a year later. Anyway, he wasn't allowed near her so he took it out on the nearest female, me.' Catherine started to cry, 'It was in the room next door. Look at me, Mrs Robinson, there's not much of me, never has been,' she stood up, reed thin, still pretty but fragile, 'well, how was I to overpower a man like that? I couldn't.' She faced Stephen, 'Believe me I tried, but it was useless. He forced himself on me that night, I was fifteen! Fifteen, Stephen!'

Phryne went round the desk and put her arms round the now sobbing woman.

'Father wanted nothing to do with me.' She cried the tears she had held back for so long, 'I told Henry and he said I should get rid of it, a baby, I couldn't do that. Catherine found somewhere I could have my baby, discreetly. She paid, your money of course Stephen, she told you it was for a child she was sponsoring, as she couldn't have any herself. Briefly we wondered about going away for long enough and then coming home where she would bring up the baby as hers. But even she wouldn't contemplate raising Henry's bastard. My little girl, Stephen. That's why I never married. The memory of that night, that I would have to do that with a man, was too much.' She looked at Phryne, 'I suppose that gives me good reason to kill him.'

'I think you would have done so by now, Catherine, if you were able to.' She patted the woman's back. 'Thank you for your candour, please, if you want to retire to your room, that's perfectly understandable.'

Phryne watched her go, an immense sadness filled her. She turned to Stephen, a sad, sorry specimen of a man. 'Do you have anything to add, Stephen?' She returned to her seat.

'I...er...no.' He stood up, 'except I didn't kill him.' He left.

'No,' said Phryne to herself, 'you don't have the guts.'

The next and last interview would be Albert and his wife, Sarah. She held no illusions, Albert clearly hated his father.

They sat facing the Honourable Phryne Fisher (known as Mrs Robinson), Lady Detective. She studied them.

Albert was slim, obviously took his looks from his mother, colouring from his father, dark hair, plastered down with brilliantine, clean shaven, blue eyes. Sarah was small, slightly plump, blond curls, blue eyes and the expression of a rabbit caught in the headlights.

'Tell me, Albert, did you kill your father?' Nothing like getting straight to the point at nearly two in the morning.

'What, no!' He looked horrified. 'I didn't like him, he was a bully, you heard me say before, but I didn't kill him.'

'So glad to hear it.' She smiled, 'Sarah?'

'I stayed as far away as possible, he was an odious man,' She sniffed, 'I only came because...'

'It was an order.'

'What about your other brother, Albert?' She asked, 'he's the only one not here.'

'He's somewhere in South America.' Albert told her, 'lucky sod.'

'Albert, language!' Sarah hissed.

'Don't worry, Mrs Openshaw, I've heard worse.' Phryne smiled, 'What will happen to the company now?'

'I'll take it on. Hal's not interested, and when he went off father cut him off, no profits, out of his will.'

Albert paused then his wife nudged him, 'Go on, you may as well tell her.'

'He nearly did the same to me.'

'Why?' Phryne thought that was cutting off his nose to spite his face, 'he doesn't strike me as the kind of man to disinherit a son in favour of daughters.'

'Sarah.' He took his wife's hand. 'Sarah was a typist, his secretary actually. God knows how she avoided his hands. Anyway, I went and fell in love with her which didn't please him. He did his best to stop us marrying but I got a license and we eloped to Gretna Green.'

'Gretna Green?' Phryne looked confused.

'Just over the border in Scotland.' Albert smiled properly for the first time, 'If you get a Marriage License, a notice of intent to marry you can marry there. We knew if we tried to marry in Manchester he'd stop it so Sarah took her annual leave and I told him I was going away for a few days and...well.'

'So how did he come round?' Phryne observed.

'We had a son, Charles, a boy to carry on the line, my father in law was very much concerned with heirs.' Sarah smiled. 'We managed to persuade him that Albert would keep the factory going all his hard work would continue.'

'Men.' Phryne sighed.

'That's father, or rather, that _was_ father.' Albert sat back, 'a bully, a womaniser and a mean old skinflint.'

'Thank you, that will be all.' She stood and indicated they should leave.

She poured herself a glass of water and looked at her notes. She didn't have a murderer there, she was sure. She sighed and wondered how Jack was getting on.

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The young doctor, who doubled as the police surgeon had examined the body and agreed with Jack that the dart was in all likelihood poisoned. He'd let him know as soon as he could what the poison was after he had done an autopsy. The police, doctor and body had all gone by the time the Lady Detective rejoined him.

Jack smiled at her as she came into the room, but he noticed she looked tired. Looking at his watch he saw it was nearly three in the morning, no wonder.

'Anything interesting?' He moved over to her.

'A family with many not so secret, secrets.' She sighed. 'He was a bully and a womaniser. According to Catherine he impregnated her when she was fifteen and she had to go away to have her baby, a little girl, and I think it was adopted. He tried it on with Rosemary, she cut him with a letter opener...' She briefly told him the story of the Openshaws. 'I don't think any of them did it.'

'Well, I agree.' He offered her his arm, 'nobody was actually near him when he fell, but I might see if I can recreate the scene tomorrow. For now, sleep.'

'That's a lovely idea,' She leant her head on his shoulder. 'By the way I have some information you may find useful, not about the case.'

'Oh, I'm intrigued, Miss Fisher.' He guided her into the bedroom.

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She snuggled close to him in the bed and told him about how Albert and Sarah eloped.

'So you see,' she walked her fingers up his pyjama jacket, 'if we get a license we could hop over to Gretna and I could really be Mrs Robinson, before we go home.'

'On one condition.'

'Condition, Jack?' She sat up and looked at him, 'and what would that be?'

'Did you bring that gold dress you wore to the theatre?' He smiled, 'I would suggest the red, but after what happened tonight...'

'But you're not supposed to see the bride or her dress before the wedding.' She pouted.

'Since when did you bow to convention?' He pulled her back down and kissed her.

'I'll sleep on it.' She closed her eyes, worn out from listening to revelations of the Openshaw family.

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Breakfast was a quiet affair, unsurprisingly so. Emma had taken the children, Charles and Annabel, given them breakfast in the kitchen and then over to the lake to skim stones and generally play. They hadn't been informed of their grandfather's death, but Emma was going to see how they felt about him.

As the tables were cleared Jack stood up and called for attention. He told them what they had learned about Henry's death, that he was hit by a poisoned dart, he was waiting to find out what the poison was from the doctor.

'First, ladies and gentlemen,' I would like to recreate the scene in the ballroom. So, if you would all follow Phryne.'

Everybody followed and allowed themselves to be placed by Phryne and Jack. There were a few 'No, I was here's', but generally they remembered where they were.

'Mr Wendell,' Jack smiled, 'would you mind being Mr Henry Openshaw?'

'Where do you want me?'

Jack positioned him in Henry's spot and then walked round the room. There was a clear line of sight between Henry and the trees across the lawn.

'Thank you, everybody,' He stood by Phryne, 'I realise that can't have been easy. All I ask, today, is that you stay in the house and grounds.'

When everybody had gone Jack asked if he could see the staff, inside and outside.

James had the staff line up in the dining room. Each was asked what their duties had been the previous night. All were somewhere else in the house, mainly in the kitchen and scullery. All had someone who could give them an alibi, which was no more than either the Inspector or Lady Detective expected.

They filed out watched by Phryne and Jack. Suddenly she caught his arm and pointed at one young man. Unlike everyone else his shoes showed signs of having been in the dirt.

Jack looked down his list, Paul Harris.

'Mr Wendell...' Jack nodded his head towards the window, out of earshot. '...this lad, what do you know about him?'

'Paul came to us this season.' James stood looking out over the immaculate lawn towards the trees. 'He's not usually working in the evening, still being trained and when I met Mr Openshaw I thought the poor lad would be in for it if he made a mistake. I gave him the day off.'

'Where did he come from?' Phryne asked. 'Did he have references?'

'He hails from Liverpool, and yes his references from his previous employer, he was a boots in a household there, were as good as they can be for a lad who cleans other peoples shoes. Quiet and unobtrusive, was the best comment, which is what you want in this job.'

'So why did he come here?' Jack asked. From looking at maps of England he knew Liverpool wasn't far from Manchester.

'Wanted to get out of the city, learn a proper trade he said.'

'Have you got any paperwork, you know, place and date of birth, next of kin?' Jack asked.

'In the office.'

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'Here we are.' James put Paul's information on the desk.

'Right,' Phryne read out, 'Paul Harris, born January ninth 1914, Liverpool. Next of kin, Mary Harris, mother.'

'Sixteen.' Jack muttered.

'Something doesn't add up.' Phryne mused. 'I know who'll know.' She brightened, 'Sarah.'

'Sarah?' Jack looked at her, 'why?'

'Secretary's know everything.' She grinned and headed out to find Albert's wife.

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'Ah, yes.' Sarah sat down, 'poor Mary Harris.'

'You knew her?' Jack sat down opposite her.

'Of her, she left two years before I started there.' Sarah sighed, 'stories get around you know. Catherine used to meet Georgina for tea near the factory. Henry insisted that his wife took an interest in the business, but I think it was so she could see the parade of young women he could get his hands on when he felt like it. She recognised I was new office staff and caught me at the end of one day and asked me what position I had taken. I told her and she suggested, for my protection, to always keep a letter opener on the desk. I didn't understand until recently. Anyway, Mary Harris. She was just one in a line of secretaries he had during the war. Each one left suddenly, but Mary kept in touch with her friends. I found a letter from her one day, demanding money to support her son...'

'His son.' Phryne whispered.

'Yes.' Sarah nodded. 'I knew he wouldn't have sent any so I did. Just a little when I could. Until she told me to stop. It was not my responsibility, she said, and anyway she had found someone to marry her, a good kind man who had travelled the world and was now happy to settle and work on the docks.'

'Thank you, Mrs Openshaw.' Jack smiled and stood as she left the office.

'I think I know what's going on.' He turned to James and Phryne. 'Mary's new husband is Hal Openshaw.'

'How do you work that out?' James scratched his head.

'He's travelled the world, now happy to settle down and work on the docks.' He smiled, 'I bet he's come home from Peru, brought a few 'souvenirs', married Mary and supported Paul, told them of their travels, shown his memories...'

The phone rang. James answered it and nodded, 'It's for you Inspector.'

Jack listened, nodded and replaced the receiver.

'Curare.' One word, Phryne looked at him, then light dawned.

'Oh.' She breathed.

'But still,' James looked bemused, 'how the heck did you work that out?'

'They all connect, Mary, Henry, Paul.' He sketched out a basic family tree on a piece of paper, 'the only thing I can't work out is how Paul knew that the family would be here.'

'It was a last minute booking,' Phryne sat on the edge of the desk, which made Jack smile, 'how long has Paul worked here?'

'Since the beginning of the season, like I told you,' James grumbled, 'May.'

'...and who knew of his existence?' Phryne asked, playing with the hem of her jacket.

'Sarah!' Both men gasped, 'Sarah knew.'

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It all came out in a tumble of words and tears when they called both Sarah and Paul into the office. How she had still kept up correspondence with Mary, how Mary had told her that Hal had returned but didn't want anything to do with his father. He looked after them both, promising that they would never want for anything, but life wouldn't be all beer and skittles.

'He showed me his things from all over the world,' Paul spoke, staring into space, 'he showed me how to use a blow pipe, we had competitions with a dart board in the back kitchen. I got really good. Hit the bull more than not. I didn't come here because I knew he would come.'

'I suggested it.' Sarah whispered, 'when he was looking for a hotel for the party, after all a good secretary... Anyway I told Paul we were all coming up, I just wanted to warn him that he was likely to come face to face with the man who had ruined his mother.'

'I asked mum to send me some things from home,' Paul sighed, 'get them to Sarah and she could pass them on. I should have worked that night, but Mr Wendell thought I was a bit raw to face him, he thought I would likely be the target of any nasty comments. I'd planned to catch him, with a fork. A scratch would have been enough, enough to immobilise him. All I could think of was what he had done to mum so I stood out in the trees when you were all dancing. I had to wait until he was alone, the way he whirled you around, Mrs Robinson, I couldn't take the chance of hitting you, you and your husband are so in love, a love he denied my mother.'

'I didn't expect you to kill him, Paul.' Sarah whispered, taking his hand, 'I knew you would probably do something foolish, but not this. Oh, lad...' she stroked his cheek.

'I'm not sorry.' Paul smiled at her, 'maybe Mrs Openshaw and the ladies will get some peace now.'

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They stood and watched Paul be led away by the gruff sergeant of police, both dreadfully sad for him.

'I suppose my family aren't so bad, after all.' Phryne leant against Jack and he put his arm around her.

'All things considered, no.' He kissed her the top of her head.

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The Openshaws filed out to their cars, quiet deep in thought at all that had happened and why. Phryne caught Albert and pulled him aside.

'Get in touch with Hal,' she whispered, 'at least let him know he still has a brother.'

'I've already sent him a telegram.' Albert smiled, 'to let him know, and to tell him that he and his wife are always welcome at our house.'

She smiled, at least he could do for his brother what she would never be able to do for Janey.

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They sat in the lounge with coffee and biscuits. James watched them, Mrs Robinson curled up against the Inspector. He coughed discreetly and smiled as Phryne uncurled and sat more politely.

'Inspector, Mrs Robinson.' He stood in front of them, 'thank you. Such a convoluted family, don't you think. Perhaps I should have let young Paul serve.'

'You did what you thought was right, to protect him.' Jack stood and held out his hand.

'Well, anyway,' He took the hand and shook it. 'I've located more fuel for the plane, in Carlisle. There's a small flying club there and they can sort you out, if you've enough to get there.' He produced a map.

'Oh easily,' Phryne smiled. 'We can fuel and service, maybe stay over a night and then head off.'

'Thank you, James.' Jack smiled. 'I think we'll leave this afternoon, make the most of the light. Phryne is really homesick and it's going to be a long trip.'

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As they packed Phryne pointed out they would be closer to Gretna Green. Perhaps they could get a licence in Carlisle and use it there. Then fly home.

'Is that what you want, love?' He took her in his arms.

'If we wait until we get home, it will be obvious I'm pregnant,' She smiled moving her hand down over her flat stomach, 'by the time Aunt P has organised a proper wedding, because not even I can stop her with that.'

'Are you sure?'

'Absolutely, why else would I not drink champagne or wine?' She tiptoed up and kissed him.

'and..?' he was asking how she felt about it now.

'Like you say, Jack, it's an adventure.'

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For once, all they planned went well. Well almost all.

Phryne climbed rather quickly out of the plane when they landed and ran to a piece of hedge and was spectacularly sick.

'Phryne!' Jack ran over to her and put his arms round her. 'Are you alright?'

She leant back against him and gasped. He saw she was pale and little bead of sweat were on her forehead.

'Um, Jack.' She finally spoke, 'I don't think I can fly.'

'Oh, is it..?'

'I think so, I felt sick almost as soon as we took off, I'm actually surprised I got this far.' She bit back tears. 'How are we going to get anywhere?'

'Trains, boats, cars,' he pulled her close and kissed her cheek, 'we'll find a way.'

'Hey!' A man in flying gear waved and ran towards them. 'you ok!' He puffed as he reached them.

'Yes, sorry.' Phryne composed herself. 'Um, ...'

'We need to get into town and do some business then we need transport to Scotland.' Jack filled in for her as she seemed momentarily lost for words.

'Well, you've got a sound kite her.' He looked in awe at Phryne's plane and she had a spark of inspiration. If she couldn't fly it home...

'It's for sale.' She blurted out. 'I can't take her home, Australia, so..'

'Wow!' He went over and started to look over the machine.

'Are you sure?' Jack whispered.

'Well, I can't take her up, can I? Nor can I just leave her here.' She was struggling to contain her tears, 'so if I sell her, then we can use the money to get home and I'll buy another when I can fly again.'

'Ok, if you're sure.' He raised his eyebrows.

'I'm not but I can't see any other way.'

'Can we talk, in the hut?' The young pilot asked, 'she's in great condition.'

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In the hut, Phryne was given water, which she was more than grateful for, and the bargaining began. She named the price she had paid for it, he came in lower, Jack watched her, obviously much happier now and enjoying herself. They came to a mutually agreed sum and shook hands, he even agreed to run them and their luggage into town to a hotel and he would go to the bank, draw out the cash or sort out a wire transfer. They agreed on half and half.

They booked in to the Crown and Mitre Hotel as Mr and Mrs Robinson and then headed to the bank with Rory, the pilot. At least if they were with him they could ensure that the money did change hands and Phryne wasn't left with a dud cheque. They shook hands and said goodbye then stood in the town square and looked at each other and burst out laughing. They were effectively stranded. Money, yes, but no transport. First a marriage license.

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Jack was the first to spot the Registrar's and they headed over there, rather nervously.

'All I need to know,' the registrar, who reminded Phryne of Uriah Heep, from David Copperfield, 'is whether there is any impediment to your marrying.'

'Well no.' Jack almost laughed, 'I am divorced, here,' he showed the relevant document, 'but apart from that...'

'Right, and the lady.'

'Single, never married.' Phryne said in that typical blasé way of hers, with a dazzling smile.

Jack paid the minimal fee and decided he'd better spend a bit more on a ring for her, she was definitely worth more than two bob. He put the document in his pocket and they headed off to get something to eat. Phryne was starving, which she lost no time in telling him after they left the registrar's, having lost her breakfast and biscuits at the flying club. They found a small cafe and dived into sandwiches, cakes and lots of tea.

'That's better.' She sighed, finishing the last piece of chocolate cake.

'You look better for that.' He reached across and squeezed her hand.

'Sorry about that.' She smiled at him, 'I suppose it had to happen sometime.'

'Better now than over the med.' He suggested.

'Mm...messy.' She shuddered. 'Now what?'

'Well, I suggest we look at transport, routes home, and a route to...' The waitress came over so he didn't specify the next stop on their tour.

'Excuse me, sir.' she said, 'I apologise for listening but, there's a travel shop over the other side of the square.'

'Thank you, my dear.' Phryne smiled, 'that saves us a lot of trouble.'

They paid the bill and left her a small tip, for the information even though she shouldn't have been listening.

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They spent a lot of time trying to work out how to get home first. There were several options, train to Liverpool, boat to Singapore then a flight to Melbourne, or they could go via Southampton either way the journey would take over a month. Phryne's shoulders sagged. A month!

'There is the option to fly.' The assistant suggested. That would be eleven days, with stop-overs.'

'I don't fly well.' Phryne muttered.

'Oh, dear.'

'Can we think about it?' Jack asked, 'we'll come in later perhaps and let you know. Thank you for your help.'

'Jack,' she looked tired, 'I don't want to fly, I don't think I can cope with being sick every day, not like that. And if I am, all I'll want to do is curl up in bed and sleep.'

'Look, sweetheart.' He faced her, taking his hands in hers. 'I think we should take the train to Liverpool and go by boat to Singapore. The flight from there is short, not as short as today's but that would be it, and you may be feeling better by them. The cabins are comfortable, the sea air will help if you do feel rough.'

'Perhaps you're right.' She took a deep breath, a 'pull yourself together, Phryne,' type of breath.

'Come on, love.' he drew her hand through the crook in his arm, 'how about I buy you a wedding ring, and if you're good, an engagement ring, too.'

She brightened, jewellery shopping was something she was rather good at, and although she wouldn't be able to get to the finest jewellers in London, maybe Carlisle would have just what they wanted.

They browsed, seeing rings in various shops until Jack stopped, outside a tiny shop down a small street. He pulled her in giggling.

The jeweller, a little man, advancing in years smiled at the excitable young woman and soberly dressed man who entered his shop at a bit of a rush.

'Can I help you?'

'I hope so,' Jack smiled back, 'in the window...'

'Show me.' The old man moved round the counter and headed for the door. Jack motioned Phryne to stay where she was.

She waited. They returned nodding and whispering, which was infuriating to her. But she bided her time. The jeweller pulled the cushion onto the counter and picked up the two rings Jack had selected, his heart in his mouth lest she should reject his choice.

'Miss Fisher,' Jack held out his hand.

'Inspector.' She joined him at the counter.

'Hand.' He held out his hand for her left hand and slipped cool gold over her ring finger, grateful she had removed the temporary wedding ring when she had put her flying gloves on. Then he let her see it. The band was engraved with scrolls and tiny flowers, the setting was alternate rubies and diamonds set around a pearl which was surrounded by a find gold twist.

'Jack,' a dazzling smile lit up her face, 'it's lovely.' She held out her hand to admire it. 'I love it.' It was quite different to anything she had in her jewellery box.

'So now we're officially engaged, the wedding ring.' He picked up a matching gold band from the cushion. Identical engraving of scrolls and flowers swirled all around it. So different to plain gold bands but, he thought, so Phryne.

'Perfect.' she breathed, 'I never knew you had such an eye, Jack.' She leant over and kissed him, on the lips, leaving a smudge of red. He supposed he'd have to get used to public displays of affection.

'For the groom?' The jeweller interrupted.

'Will you, Jack?' She asked, quietly, 'will you wear a ring for me, you don't have to.'

'For you Phryne, I will wear chains.'

'I might hold you to that, but I get to choose.'

The jeweller brought out a cushion of men's rings which she picked over before settling on one at the centre of the display. It was engraved with waves and mountains, and she thought quite apt, after all, hadn't he crossed such when he came after her?

He tried it on for size and they were pleased to see it fitted nicely.

The wedding rings boxed and the engagement ring firmly on Phryne's finger they paid and left to a call of 'l'chaim and mazel tov' from the old Jew.

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The dinner in the hotel was simple and filling and afterwards they sat in the lounge with a coffee and whisky for him, just the coffee for Phryne. Jack was amused she seemed to have taken to not drinking rather well. She assured him she would make up for it after the baby was born, but she actually didn't miss it, because it tasted odd anyway.

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'Early start tomorrow.' Jack nipped the back of her neck as he helped her out of her dress.

She hummed and leant back rubbing her backside against his groin, feeling his growing need. He turned her round so she could take her turn at his clothes. She struggled with the buttons, trying to be too quick.

'No rush, darling.' He took her hands in his and kissed each finger.

'Speak for yourself,' she uttered huskily.

'It's ok,' he nuzzled into the hair above her ear, 'easy, tiger.'

She relaxed and managed the buttons on his shirt and his trousers pushing both garments away and down. He lifted her slip over her head at the same time as he toed his socks off. Next he knelt in front of her and rolled her stockings down, planting little kisses up from her toes, sending shivers up her whole body, reaching up and removing her knickers and kissing her where he supposed his child was growing, muttering a little greeting to it, then up until he could remove her bra and kiss each breast. All the while she massaged his shoulders trying to hold on, digging her fingers into his muscles. Then he was standing holding her tight against him so she could feel him, he pressed his lips against hers, licking until she parted them and let his tongue slide over hers. She ran her hands down his sides until she could push his shorts off and take him in hand. He had to be the most well endowed man that had ever taken her, no wonder she couldn't get enough of him. He pushed her onto the bed, supporting her head as she fell then he teased her until she pulled him down and into her, biting her lip, knowing her cries would be heard in the other rooms. He smiled as he felt her tighten round him in her release. He loved seeing her like this, completely out of control as he released milliseconds after her and she let out a low moan of satisfaction.

'Jack'. She gasped, no longer having the strength to hold on to him. He collapsed onto his elbows and bent to blow a gentle breeze over her breasts, she shuddered and gave a little release again, much to her surprise.

He moved off her and pulled the covers over them, as sleep claimed her and shortly afterwards him, with a smug grin on his face.

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AN:So, on to Gretna Green, and then home. Wonder if the journey will go smoothly. How will Phryne cope with the motion of the ocean?

If you're wondering about Phryne knowing so early she is pregnant, my mother in law knew the morning after the deed was done! She couldn't stand her first cigarette of the day and didn't smoke for each of her pregnancies. That was the 1950's, I might add.

Two bob for a marriage license? Two shillings to those too young to remember pre decimal UK coinage. My dad said it cost him two shillings and sixpence when he married mum in 1957, so, not being able to find anything on the web, I settled for sixpence less!


	8. Chapter 8

A fairly domestic chapter to get from Gretna to Liverpool.

Thank you for the continued reviews, it is so good to know how much you seen to appreciate the story.

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The early train to Gretna Green passed through some lovely countryside, the autumn colours vibrant in the early sunshine. Phryne had a small suitcase with her, in which she had packed the dress Jack had requested she was to be wed in, together with matching shoes and jewellery. If all went well when they returned to the Crown and Mitre in Carlisle she would really be Mrs Phryne Robinson. She gripped Jack's hand nervously. He turned and smiled gently at her, kissing her forehead.

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They stood in front of the Old Blacksmith's Shop,

'Well, here we go.' Jack tucked her arm through his and escorted her in to find out what they had to do next.

They were greeted by a burly Scotsman who smiled and assured them there would be no problem to them getting married that day. He would get two witnesses, a couple who were always happy to see two people embark on married life.

'Is there somewhere I could change,' Phryne gave him her most enigmatic smile, 'only I don't want to get married in a dress I travel in.'

'You can use the back room.' He smiled, this chap was a very lucky man. She was a stunner, not the usual 'runaway' bride. Still they had the necessary papers, it would all be legal.

Phryne thanked him and left Jack to await her in her gold dress. He was wearing his charcoal grey suit, so much easier for a man to travel ready to go somewhere special.

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It all seemed to go rather quickly, Jack thought, though Phryne seemed happy. HIs first wedding had been a bit long winded, and as a young man all he had wanted was to get to the small hotel he and Rosie had booked so he could take her to bed. Looking back it had been a bit disappointing, for him, certainly, for her, uncomfortable. They had been patently unsuited, that much became obvious as the years went by, she would submit to his, what she referred to as, carnal desires, but only because she wanted a baby, which never happened. He'd always assumed it was his technique, but now he doubted that, Phryne seemed more than happy and was pregnant.

He was surprised she had worn the gold dress, as he had requested. She looked beautiful, already she was blooming, radiant. Blimey, he thought, she really is going to let me marry her!

They said their vows and exchanged their rings.

'Mr Robinson,' the official smiled, 'you may kiss the bride.'

He was used to the almost chaste kisses between the newlyweds he joined, but the new Mrs Robinson melted into her husband's passionate kiss, completely oblivious to the audience they had. He and the witnesses smiled at each other, and congratulated them.

They signed the register, Jack tucked the certificate in his pocket and Phryne went to change back into her blue silk day dress, not even she would travel in a gold evening gown, even if she had just got married.

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Phryne leaned against her new husband in the train carriage. She held out her left hand and admired the rings.

'Happy?' Jack whispered, putting his arm round her.

'Stunned, but yes.' She turned her head to kiss his cheek. 'I suppose we better tell my parents.'

'It's only polite, wife.' He teased.

She batted his arm and grinned. 'Perhaps I'd better make sure they're sitting down, first.'

She opted for sending a telegram, impersonal, true, but the phone in the hotel was rather public and they were already booked in as Mr and Mrs Robinson, so...

'Jack,' she sighed a little while later, when he allowed her to used her mouth for something other than kissing, 'I would like to keep the baby a secret, for now.'

'I leave that to you, sweetheart,' he smiled, 'you don't have to tell anyone, except maybe Dot and Mac. They should know, Dot is close to you, knows you inside and out, and Mac is your doctor, don't you think?'

'Alright,' she thought for a moment, 'I suppose it would be best. Dot will notice when my clothes need altering, or if I get strange tastes. Mac will tell me what I need to know, about what is to be expected.' She looked into the distance. 'I have known pregnant women, but not closely.'

'I'm afraid I only know what my sister went through,' Jack spoke softly, 'she seemed to sail through it, although she had a desire for chocolate and fish,' she looked at him, 'but not at the same time.' He laughed, he had made it sound odd.

'Well I like chocolate anyway,' she mused, 'I suppose we'll see what happens.'

'Time yet, love.'

'Yes.'

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They had time when they got back to Carlisle to book their homeward trip. Carlisle to Liverpool by train, Liverpool to Singapore by sea and then Singapore to Melbourne by air. And to send the telegram,

'Married Jack STOP Sailing home on SS Ariadne STOP Phryne STOP'

They were lucky that they had not missed the deadline to board a steamer to Singapore. The would travel to Liverpool the next day, stay overnight in a hotel then board the steamer mid morning, arriving in Singapore six weeks later. An overnight stop in Singapore and then on to Melbourne by plane, an eight hour flight. Poor Phryne, Jack thought, the girl who loved to fly her own plane now dreading the thought of air travel. He squeezed her hand.

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Phryne's hand lay across his chest, the ring clearly visible on her finger. He pinched himself, yes he was awake, and yes, she seemed to be wearing a wedding ring, so it hadn't been a dream. He sighed and stretched. It had been one heck of a wedding night. It would seem that his wife couldn't wait to get his clothes off him after dinner and he had to remind her that Dot wasn't there to sew the buttons on his shirt if she ripped them off. They had made love in the shower, a desperate and frantic joining, then a leisurely round of kisses and touches before he pulled her onto him and it was her turn to be in charge of the rhythm until she arched and groaned her release, falling onto him and gasping for air, before telling he was a bad influence on her!

'Cheek!' he had pulled the sheet over her and held her tight until he realised her breathing had slowed to a regular sigh as she slept, exhausted.

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'Phryne,' he stroked her arm, 'Phryne, love. We need to get up.'

'Mmph,' she rubbed her nose into the hairs on his chest, 'five more minutes.'

'Sorry, sweetheart.' He grinned at her grumbles, not a morning person. 'We have to pack as well as dress and have breakfast.'

'Urgh!' She moved her head to look at him.

'We're starting our journey home,' he kissed her forehead.

She blinked, then rubbed her eyes. 'Damn!' She stretched and rolled out of the bed, staggering to the bathroom to use the facilities and shower. She'd have preferred to bathe, with Jack, but they would have to save such activities until they were in the hotel in Liverpool. She wondered, briefly, if her insatiable need for his body was her reaction to being pregnant. Because she had never had such heightened desire before.

It was funny, he thought, how they moved round each other in the bathroom and bedroom, dressing, packing in less time than he thought they would. Phryne was surprisingly efficient and even checked to see if she had shed a stocking in an unlikely place in the height of passion.

She checked her makeup in the mirror and finding it to her satisfaction joined Jack and headed to the dining room. She was famished, Jack had noticed she always seemed to have a good appetite, and now was no different. She ate a good plateful of bacon and eggs, toast and marmalade, and several cups of coffee.

'Jack,' she mumbled through a mouthful of toast, her mother would have been appalled, 'do you think we could get some extra clothes in Liverpool?'

'We will have time,' he looked at her, 'but I don't know what you'll find there.'

'S'ok.' She swallowed, 'we only packed for a short flight home so we both need one or two essentials, until the laundry on the ship can clean some of our things.'

It was true. They would be at sea for a long time and neither had planned on that.

'Ok,' He grinned, 'we'll book in at the hotel and then go and do some shopping, but only what we need.' He tried to sound stern.

'Thank you, Jack.'

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The hotel in Liverpool was just what they needed, their room came with a private bathroom, it was one thing Phryne almost insisted on given her penchant for long soaks in the bath, and just lately, intimate moments with her husband. She wondered what Dot would say when she found out that she shared a bath with Jack, never mind that; what would she say when she was told her mistress had lost her mind over a man and married. She grinned to herself as she waited for Jack to vacate said bathroom and escort her to the department stores in the city.

They were pleasantly surprised at the stores and settled on one that would cater to both their needs. They separated, Jack asking if an hour would be enough for her, and he would meet her at the door when he had been round the menswear department.

'I'll get an extra suitcase, shall I?' He suggested, quite expecting Phryne to buy most of the store in an hour. When she knew what she wanted she bought at great speed.

'Good idea.' She kissed his cheek and headed off to buy what she needed and anything else she saw. She bought enough lingerie to last a week without running out, then looked at day and evening wear. Madame Fleurie would have a fit of the vapours if she saw her favourite customer buying ready to wear clothes, in a department store. Phryne found some more blouses that would complement the trousers she had packed. She bought three day dresses in cotton, a couple of evening dresses, one in deep blue and the other in ivory, after all she couldn't wear the red and gold on alternative evenings, it would make her look penny-pinching. She looked at nightdresses too, but so far the two she had with her had not been worn. As long as she had a robe that covered her, in cases of emergency, she decided she didn't need one.

She met Jack exactly an hour after he had left her, much to his surprise, though he was not surprised to see she had a minion in tow with some of her purchases. He too had bought the necessary underwear he needed, some shirts, a pair of white flannels and a light blazer, reasoning he couldn't spend the entire voyage in a three piece suit. Having put his purchases in the suitcase he had suggested they buy, he was able to help his wife carry some of her acquisitions to the hotel, after she had suitably rewarded the minion with a beautiful smile and five shillings, a generous tip.

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'Jack,' she flopped on the bed, 'do you think they would bring us up some tea and sandwiches?'

'Hungry?' He sat next to her.

'Starved.' She grinned. 'This sea air gives one an appetite, don't you think?'

He rang the bell and pretty soon a maid appeared and assured them she would be happy to bring a pot of tea and a light luncheon up, if they would wait fifteen minutes or so, she would be back.

She was as good as her word and soon they were tucking into fresh sandwiches salad, quiche, cakes and fresh fruit, and cups of hot tea.

'I'm surprised you don't get indigestion,' he laughed as she finished the last small cake, 'the speed you eat and the amount.'

'Constitution of an ox, darling,' she put her tea cup down, 'comes of eating god knows what when I was a child in Collingwood.'

'Well I'm glad you're not one of those society women who seems to live on fresh air and cigarettes.' He didn't point out that she hadn't smoked since they had left London.

'God no!' She brushed a few crumbs off her lap and wriggled onto his. 'Anyway, I'll get fat soon enough.' She pouted.

'Fat or slim,' he kissed her, 'you'll always be beautiful to me.'

She smiled and curled against his chest, he knew she would sleep for at least an hour, if not more, so he waited until he was sure she was deep in slumber and carried her to the bed, where he lay her gently and pulled a cover over her.

The maid returned to take the tray and her tip, leaving Jack to think about packing everything ready for tomorrow, leaving out enough for the evening meal, and for the start of their journey tomorrow. This meant choosing an outfit for Phryne, which was always going to be shaky ground. When she had packed in Carlisle that morning she had been very organised. The smaller of the cases they had contained her lingerie and his underwear, toiletries and a pair of pyjamas for him and her robe. He couldn't see a nightdress and smiled, little madam, he thought, suppressing his arousal. In one of the others he found the dress they had watched Shakespeare in, for that evening, a clean shirt for him and change of tie. That would do, they would both look respectable, though he would change into his darker suit, the charcoal grey one, which he found in the last case.

He started to put his new purchases in the new case, easiest if he did his things first, and laid hers on top. He decided he'd wear the same suit he had worn that day for travelling tomorrow, after that in their stateroom on board he could choose on a daily basis. He was just wondering what to do next when she stirred and turned to look at him, through one suspicious eye.

'Hello, sleepyhead,' he crawled over to her and kissed her. 'Good sleep?'

'Mmm...' she stretched. 'What're you doing?'

'Sorting out what we need tonight and tomorrow.' He leant on his elbow, 'but it's up to you what you want to wear.'

She pushed herself up and ran her fingers through her hair,

'Not full evening wear tonight,' she rubbed her eyes, 'and these black trousers and a white blouse tomorrow.' She crawled over to the suitcase and took out some lingerie and the blouse. If she hung the trousers in the bathroom any creases would drop out with the steam from the bath she decided she would have, now.

She slipped off the bed and told Jack that was her plan, giving him that certain come hither look that left him in no doubt she needed her back scrubbing!

He heard her flush the toilet and start to run the bath. The she came out of the bathroom carrying her blouse and trousers. She went to the wardrobe and took out a hanger for the trousers and headed back into the bathroom. The trouble for him, was, that seeing Phryne wandering around in her bra and knickers made him instantly aroused, a fact she probably knew. He picked up the blouse she had dropped on the bed and hung it up for her, then undressed, completely, and put his robe on and followed her. She was still in her knickers her back to him as she swirled bath crystals into the water, a pleasing neutral scent. He took her by the hips and pressed against her eliciting a squeak then a groan.

'Jack.' She felt his hands relieve her of her remaining garment and turn her to lift her into the bath. Then he dropped his robe and stepped in behind her sliding his legs down each side of hers. He took the sponge and slowly massaged her back, then her shoulders then dropped the sponge and used his hands to stroke her breasts, her stomach and her sweet spot. Her breath hitched and he lifted her onto him and keeping his hands between her legs helped her gasp and see stars in ecstasy. As she returned to her body he lifted her up and twisted her round to face him so he could kiss her thoroughly until she could barely breathe.

'Oh, heavens.' Was all she could get out, as she lay on his chest and played with the hair there, which for some odd reason, fascinated her. Most of the other men she had been intimate with had smooth chests. She decided she liked the chest hair, it seemed more manly, somehow.

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They were just in time for dinner, the dining room was almost full and their table was in a nice little corner where they could play, 'Who do you suppose they are?' A game where they had to guess what each of the people did or if they had independent means, and if they were married, courting or having an affair. They never knew the answers but it was fun, and Jack could give such suggestions that Phryne would periodically dissolve into giggles. He suggested a couple, middle-aged, who seemed to be looking furtively around, were a pair of international jewel thieves, checking to see if there were any police about.

Phryne's idea was that the man that sent back every dish with a loud complaint was actually unable to pay the bill and he was hoping to get a free meal for himself and his pretty secretary.

Jack said, quite seriously, that he hoped that was all because he was not going to investigate any crime. They were getting on that boat, tomorrow morning, by hook or by crook.

She giggled again, and she was only drinking tonic water.

They ate a good dinner of consommé, followed by a simple roast chicken with roast potatoes , green beans and carrots, followed by a crème caramel. As Phryne wasn't drinking wine Jack declined and asked for a jug of iced water.

'You don't have to, darling,' she smiled, 'if you want a drink, have one.'

'One of us has to wake up in the morning, and you know it's not your preferred time of day.' He teased.

She stuck her bottom lip out and he laughed at her.

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Jack was right, he had to make some effort to get his wife to wake up the next morning. He tried blowing cold air over her breasts, but she turned over and pulled the covers higher, then he nibbled her ear lobes, but she put her head under the pillow. He sighed then smiled to himself. He slid his hand over her hip and up towards her breasts. She hummed and wriggled against him, god the woman was insatiable. Well, never one to disappoint a lady, he hoped, he kissed her shoulder as he massaged and thumbed her breast. Phryne turned over to face him and put her arms round him and her leg over him. Somehow they ended up making love even though they both knew they didn't really have time to get dressed and breakfasted before getting a taxi to the docks. Everything after their lovemaking was done at breakneck speed. A quick shower, they shared and behaved, dress, make-up for Phryne, and packing the remaining toiletries and things they had left from the previous night, when clothes had ended up on the floor, again!

They managed a quick breakfast, before the dining room closed and paid the bill.

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Phryne stood at the foot of the gangplank and took a deep breath. Jack has shown their tickets and their passports, their luggage was already being taken to their cabin, more of a stateroom really, with its own bathroom and a good sized double bed.

They stood at the rail, although there was no one to see them off, and watched Liverpool slowly shrink away.

'Come on, love.' He put his hand in the small of her back, 'let's go and find our accommodation.'

They found a steward who escorted them through the walkways, explaining how to navigate the various levels and corridors and gave them a map to help.

'Here we are, Inspector.' He smiled and unlocked the door. 'I am the steward for this level so if you need anything just ask any of the other stewards for Talbot and they'll come and find me. I'll leave you to settle in.'

'Thank you,' Phryne bestowed a sweet smile as Jack tipped him.

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Jack found it amusing that Phryne was quite content to unpack and put things away, yet ever since they had left London she had done this. With no Dot to look after her, her upbringing surfaced. The early life when she had had to look after herself and when she had travelled and lived a somewhat bohemian existence, meant she was not shy about organising their rooms or making sure that creases could be eliminated by the simple use of the bathroom steam. Rosie would have fussed over everything, and probably asked for an iron for his shirts. He again mused on the difference between the two women.

He looked at the bedside cabinets and the lamps. Phryne had refuse his offer of help and he sensed a nervousness. He wondered if she felt a little trapped, after all they were going to be so close to each other for over a month with no real means of escape. He watched her fiddle, smooth down clothes in the wardrobe and arrange toiletries in the bathroom.

'Phryne,' he called into the bathroom, 'Phryne come and sit down.'

'I'll just...'

'Come and sit down.' He stood up and went to get her. He watched her for a second then put his arms round her. 'Come on, stop worrying.'

'I'm not worrying.' She turned a pot round on the washbasin.

'Well something's bothering you.' He turned her round gently by the shoulders and looked at her. 'You know I love you?'

'Yes.' She whispered.

'...and I said I don't want you to change?'

'Uh huh.'

'...that I'll be with you every step of the way?'

She bit her lip. He pulled her close and stroked her head.

'We'll get there, sweetheart.'

He guided her into the bedroom, sat her on the bed and squatted down in front of her. 'It's been a very busy few days, you're tired but won't admit it.'

'I'm alright.' She whispered.

'Of course you are.' He smiled. 'So how about I order some tea, we drink it, and you have a sleep, eh?'

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The tea arrived and Jack made sure she drank a full cup and then settled her on the bed with a light cover over her. Then he settled down next to her and wrapped his arms round her, drifting off himself.

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Phryne woke a little over two hours later. She didn't move just lay there with those familiar arms around her and thought about what he had said, there in the cabin.

He was right. She was just plain tired. They had run around London, then from London to the Lake District, solved a murder, arranged and got married, taken a train and boarded a ship all in the space of just over a week, in between times they had made love in bed, in the bath, in the shower. No wonder she was tired. She smiled. Perhaps the odd night actually sleeping together would be a good idea!

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So a month or more on board an ocean liner, what will happen next, because nothing is ever plain sailing for Jack and Phryne.


	9. Chapter 9

Phryne continued to lie with Jack's arms around her, the distant hum of the engines threatened to lull her back to sleep but her growling stomach kept her awake. She wondered if she could have a wander around the ship and find some food. She started to lift Jack's arm off her and he tensed. Damn! He must be awake too.

'Going somewhere?' He mumbled into the back of her head.

Phryne turned over to face him. 'Hungry.' She smiled.

'Really?'

'Hungry, hungry, Jack,' she grinned, 'as in empty stomach.'

'Oh.' He tried to look disappointed, 'Oh well, suppose we'd better go and find something to eat, then.' He lifted his arm and let her leave him for the bathroom and to tidy her makeup and hair, smiling at her sudden practicality.

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Armed with the map of the ship Talbot had provided them with, they quickly found a dining room where a buffet was laid out. They joined the mercifully short queue and loaded their plates with small sandwiches, individual pies and quiches and salad. They found a table by the window and tucked in hungrily. Jack found he was every bit as hungry as his wife and, as the food was tasty it wasn't long before they had cleared their plates and were thinking about looking at the desserts.

'Can I get you anything, sweetheart?' Jack was pleased to see she was more like her old self after a sleep and nourishment.

'Some water, please.' She smiled up at him, 'and if there's something sweet...'

He returned with a jug of iced water and two glasses and reported that there was a selection of desserts and fresh fruit.

'Oh, fruit, please,' She poured water and lifted a glass, 'if there's any peaches...'

He took a peach for her and a slice of apple pie for himself in the certain knowledge she would probably pinch some off his plate.

Plates cleaned and glasses drained they sat gazing out of the window as the stewards claimed their dishes and offered tea or coffee.

'Just some more water for me, please,' Phryne gave one of her beatific smiles, she felt so much better. She was on her way home, actually she was on her honeymoon, she pointed this fact out to Jack, she was with someone who loved her, unconditionally and she had eaten well and that made all the difference.

'Fancy a stroll, Miss Fisher?' His voice brought her out of her thoughts.

'I'd like that very much, Inspector.' She held out her hand which he took and kissed, looking up her arm to her bright eyes, and winked. His Phryne was back.

She tucked her arm through his and they headed to the door. A man, tall, of military bearing, with an elegant, slim wife and two apparently well behaved children came towards them. The woman nodded politely as did the man, then he stopped and looked at Jack.

'Well, I'll be blowed,' he declared, 'Sergeant Robinson, as I live and breathe!'

Beside her she felt Jack stiffened, that was his rank in the army, something he rarely talked about, if ever.

Jack blinked, 'Captain?' She felt him relax a little, 'Captain Charlesworth.' He held out his hand, 'Charlie Charlesworth, blimey.'

'Retired Colonel now, but Charlie will do for me.' The retired officer grinned and shook Jack's hand warmly. 'What the devil are you doing so far from home?'

'On our honeymoon,' Jack recalled the point his new wife had made at the table, even though until then he hadn't thought of it like that. 'My wife, the Honourable Phryne Robinson.' He liked the sound of that.

Phryne offered her hand, which Colonel Charlesworth kissed most gallantly,

'Charmed.'

'Colonel.' She inclined her head, elegantly.

'Please, call me Charlie.' He turned and drew his wife forward, 'Cecile, my wife. Cecile this was one of the best sergeants in my company, capital chap to have around when you're in a jam.'

'Nice to meet you,' Jack smiled, 'I take it you are heading back?'

'Annual trip, Paris for Cecile.' Charlie grinned, 'not fair to keep her from her homeland forever, then we always come over to see my sister in Manchester and home again.'

The two children, waiting almost patiently, were eyeing up the buffet.

'I think your children are hungry, Charlie,' Phryne smiled.

'Always,' Cecile murmured, 'patience, Lottie, Phillipe.' She pronounced the boy's name with a French twist.

'I am sure we will meet during the voyage,' Phryne suggested, 'after all, there are only so many places to hide.'

'You must dine with us one night,' Jack offered.

'Love to.' Colonel Charlesworth shook his hand again and nodded to Phryne as they parted.

'Well, what are the chances?' Phryne took in the sea air.

'I wouldn't like to work out the odds,' Jack agreed, 'but he was a good Captain, treated his men with respect and got it back, too.'

'Good, isn't that the best way?' Phryne thought of all the needless bloodshed when commanders had sent their men over the top to their certain deaths without thought or feeling.

'Mmm...' Jack seemed lost in thought as they wandered the walkway to a sitting area near the bow.

They sat perusing the map, to see what facilities were on board. There was a salon where music was played most nights, a professional pianist was on board and a string quartet. A small library where passengers could sit and read, or borrow a book should they wish to read in their cabin or stateroom.

'Ah, Mrs Robinson.' Talbot stood politely an envelope in his hand. 'Telegram for you. At least I'm assuming...it is addressed to Miss Phryne Fisher, but as we don't seem to have anyone of that name on board and I heard your husband address you so, perhaps...'

'Oh, I didn't expect anything.' She sat up and held out her hand. 'It's true, you don't get many Phrynes about.' She smiled, opened the envelope and her face dropped.

'Something wrong, darling?' Jack was concerned, telegrams did tend to be harbingers of doom.

She handed it over, 'Is this a joke? STOP. Mother STOP'

'Oh.' He handed her the paper back and squeezed her hand.

'Will there be a reply, madam?'

'No,' she put the communication in her clutch bag, 'I don't plan on getting into a war of words with mother, she can wait until we get home.' She stood up and went to lean on the railing. Jack gave Talbot a tip and sent him off to do whatever he was supposed to be doing.

He stood next to her and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. A tear was making its way down her cheek. He put his arm round her,

'Don't worry, love.' He whispered, 'she's probably just put out because she didn't get to organise a big society wedding with guests you've never heard of who would snigger behind their hands about you marrying beneath you.' Jack was under no illusion that he was of the same social level as his wife, but neither of them had bothered about that.

'I think you married beneath you.' She put her head on his shoulder. 'I definitely got the best deal. None of the men she's tried to marry me off to are a patch on you.' She took the handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the tears away, 'sorry, it's probably just because my hormones are messed up. That's what happens, isn't it?'

'So I believe.' He kissed her temple and they stood there for a while, watching the distant shore pass slowly by.

'I suppose I could write a proper letter and post it at the first port we dock at?' She straightened up, 'Just to confirm it.'

'Now that sounds like a good idea,' he pulled her a little tighter, 'fancy a cuppa?'

'That's an even better idea.'

They caught a passing steward and asked for tea to be brought over to them.

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Phryne lowered herself into the warm jasmine scented bathwater and lay back with her eyes closed. They had been invited to dine at the Captain's table that evening so Jack had suggested she pamper herself with one of her favourite long soaks on her own.

She had suggested that he scrub her back, with a knowing look, but, much as he would have liked to, he knew where that would lead and promised to make it up to her later. She had pouted but not put up much resistance, after her thoughts earlier in the day.

Jack lay on the bed wondering what Lady Margaret's thoughts really were, on her daughter marrying him. She had asked him to take care of her, which had had said he would. He knew, that she knew they were more than friends so surely marriage was the next thing she expected. If she had to send a telegram she should have congratulated them or not done so at all. He wondered how Mrs Stanley would take the news, would Lady Margaret have written and told her? Bugger! He hoped not.

Phryne came out of the small bathroom, pink and smelling utterly gorgeous from her soak. She wore her black satin robe and nothing else, which did nothing to help his resolve not to ravish her until after dinner.

'Better?' He asked as she climbed onto the bed and snuggled up next to him.

'Mmm...' She smiled, knowing she was testing him. 'What time is it?'

'Almost six,' he looked at his watch. 'I'd better go and shower.' He kissed her forehead and slid off the bed, a cold one, he thought.

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'Jack,' Phryne called him over to her, 'would you help me with my dress, please?'

She had chosen to wear the new blue dress she had bought in Liverpool. It was a soft velvet that clung to her slender figure, with satin godets set in the seams just below the knee. The cap sleeves just covered to tops of her arms . The neckline cut straight across from her collar bones and dipped to her waist at the back in almost back to front narrow shawl collar, in the satin of the godets, to finish the edge. It fastened at the back with six tiny satin buttons, and it was these she couldn't do up herself.

He made note of the buttons as he would have to undo them later, he kissed her neck as he finished the last one, and turned her round.

'Will I do?' She twirled.

'Oh, most definitely,' He smiled, 'beautiful, but don't tell Madame Fleurie.'

She finished her attire with a diamond circlet which she had fashioned out of her necklace by fastening it so a drop of the clear stones hung down the back of her head and a line of diamonds sat across her fringe. She added the matching earrings and picked up her clutch bag.

'Mrs Robinson.' Jack held his arm out to her, 'shall we?'

'Just one minute, Inspector.' She adjusted his bow tie, which he had deliberately set crooked, so she would set it right, and as she did he could kiss her head, or cheek or nose, or all three. 'Now, shall we?' She threaded her arm through his and they left to see which of the top deck passengers had been invited to dine with Captain Rogers.

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A hum of conversations and introductions filtered from the door to the dining room. Circular tables seating eight were set out in rows, so the stewards could make their way around carrying dishes and bottles easily. A steward greeted them and escorted them to the Captain's table.

Captain Rogers stood and shook hands with Inspector Robinson and bowed politely over The Honourable Phryne Robinson's hand. He was a genial man, not too tall, slightly shorter than Jack, white haired and bewhiskered. He introduced the other guests: a minor royal from one of the Baltic States, that Phryne had heard of but hadn't actually met, the Princess Editha nodded in her direction, but didn't take much notice of Jack; an English Lord, Lord Dunstan who Phryne had met, well before she went to Australia though. If she recalled her mother had tried to match-make. Looking at him now, she was glad she hadn't succumbed, he managed to down two glasses of Champagne while the introductions were being made, and looked as if he had imbibed before getting to the table. To hers and Jack's delight, though, the Charlesworth's were there, without the children, and a young, rather nervous looking woman who, it turned out was Lady Dunstan, Phryne had a feeling she knew the woman but couldn't recall from where. She seemed more concerned that her husband wouldn't embarrass himself by getting supremely drunk.

Jack was seated next to the Princess and Phryne between him and Lord Dunstan. Lady Dunstan was between her husband and Charlie, Phryne thought that was a good idea, Charlie would make her feel comfortable, he was such a cheery sort, hearty, the complete opposite of her husband.

The conversation started with deeper introductions, who did what, could the Inspector regale them with tales of his cases? How had he and Phryne met? When it became known that it was over a dead body and that she did her own detecting more stories were told. Charlie roared with laughter when Jack admitted that there were times his wife had got the culprit before he had, and Cecile had looked most concerned when Phryne had admitted that once or twice she had got herself into rather hot water.

'But I know Jack will always turn up in time.' She smiled, 'I think he waits round the corner so he can be my knight in shining armour!'

'If only that were true.' He laughed.

'So, Charlie,' Phryne ran her finger round the top of her glass of water, 'how did you and Cecile meet, or is that a silly question?'

'Er, well.' He looked a little embarrassed. 'It was after the unpleasantness, you know. I had to stay in France, Cecile was a teacher, I...'

'...wasn't looking where he was going,' Cecile took over, 'knocked me over in the village square.'

'I have apologised,' Charlie grinned, 'frequently.'

'Have you forgiven him, yet, Cecile?' Phryne laughed.

'Almost.' She smiled, she liked Phryne, she hoped they could become friends. For Phryne, the feeling was mutual and if she had to stay on a ship for six weeks it would be nice to have a female friend, much as she loved Jack.

Lady Emily Dunstan understood why Mrs Phryne Robinson, nee Fisher, didn't recognise her, it had been some years since they had been at boarding school together, and the young Lady Emily Sandiland had not joined in the hi-jinks Phryne had engineered, much too sensible and her mother had warned her about consorting with minor nobility. She was destined to make a good marriage...she wasn't so sure now. Phryne seemed happier than she was. Emily wasn't jealous, just ...unhappy. Edward Dunstan was a drunk, a lecherous cad, and was never going to provide her with children.

Phryne noticed Emily watching the table, she had seen unhappy women before, trapped in loveless marriages, she had even investigated the odd apparent suicide of one or other involved in those marriages. She thought she'd try and befriend her, at least find out where she knew her from.

They were up to the dessert course, the rest of the dinner had been chosen by the Captain, a light starter of melon, followed by chilled asparagus soup, pan fried halibut with butter sauce, beef wellington or chicken en croute, Phryne chose chicken not feeling up to beef. The desserts, always Phryne's favourite course was a choice of raspberry pavlova, the Princess' choice, poached pears for Jack and Charlie, nothing for Lord Dunstan, and ices for the remaining ladies. Jack had paid attention to all that Phryne had eaten, noting she didn't finish all her plates, he hoped she wasn't struggling with the motion on the sea, but even for Phryne, who had a good, nay, amazing, appetite, it was quite a heavy menu. She seemed fine, animated. She had drunk only water, claiming wine and champagne didn't suit her.

They were just finishing their coffee when Phryne gasped, covering it with a hiccup. Jack looked at her, she grabbed his hand, which was where it should have been, on the table, and looked at him. She squeezed his hand, hard, turning her eyes towards Lord Dunstan. Jack looked at the table. Lord Dunstan's right hand was below the table and Jack instantly knew where it was, and judging from his wife's expression further up than Andrew's had been. He removed his hand, all the while holding her gaze, and slipped it over her lap to take Lord Dunstan's. He moved his eyes to hold the drunken noble's gaze and slowly lifted the offending limb away from the top of his wife's thigh. To any who noticed the move it looked like the Inspector was being the loving new husband, but Lord Dunstan knew otherwise.

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They repaired to the salon for music and dancing should anyone wish.

'I'll just go and let his lordship know to keep his hands off something he can't afford.' Jack made to leave her side.

'No, Jack.' Phryne caught his arm, 'leave it.'

'But...'

'You are always my knight in shining armour,' she kissed his cheek, 'but Edward Dunstan would never be able to have me.'

'Phryne...'

'If he makes any move I give you full permission to defend my honour.' She smiled, 'now, I am going to invite Cecile to coffee in the morning and Lady Dunstan to tea tomorrow. I need some female company, much as I love you. Then you can claim me for a dance.'

He smiled as she headed off on her mission, being Phryne.

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'Charlie,' Phryne smiled at the retired colonel, 'may I borrow your wife?'

'Well, Mrs Robinson...'

'Oh call me Phryne,' she grinned, 'I just thought, perhaps we could get better acquainted.'

Colonel Charlesworth stood aside and went to talk to the Captain.

'Cecile,' Phryne flopped down into the chair next to Charlie's wife. 'I don't suppose you'd join me for coffee tomorrow morning?'

'Phryne,' Cecile smiled, a broad and friendly smile, 'I would love to. These sea voyages can be quite dull. It's so rare there is anyone to talk to, well anyone with a brain anyway.'

'Well, I have to admit, I was planning on flying my own plane back, but circumstances have intervened. So, eleven o'clock, on the front promenade?'

'That would be lovely.' Cecile smiled, kissing Phryne on both cheeks.

'Lady Dunstan,' Phryne touched the young woman's shoulder as she stood, alone, by the rail outside the salon. 'I wondered if you would care to join me for tea, tomorrow afternoon?'

'Oh, Mrs Robinson,' Emily seemed flustered, disturbed from a daydream. 'That's very kind of you, I don't know if I'd be very good company.'

'That's ok,' Phyrne's smile was kind, sympathetic, 'I'm not planning a party, just a chat, girls together.'

'Well...' Emily took a deep breath, it had to be better than staying in the cabin, not a stateroom, he'd drunk most of the money away, 'in that case, I'd be delighted.'

'Good,' Phryne squeezed her hand, 'I'll see you on the forward deck at three?'

'Lovely.'

'Phryne,' Jack appeared at her elbow, 'I believe they're playing our song.' He held out his arm, 'Lady Dunstan.'

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They strolled back to their stateroom, both musing on the dinner and the guests.

'So, ' He muttered, 'Dunstan.'

'Oh, Jack.' She grinned, 'he was one mother had lined up for me. I declined, he was a..a oh, god he was a drunk then, he drank everyone under the table. I went out for dinner with him, once, and once was more than enough. I had to put him into a taxi and send him home, _and_ pay the bill! Jack, I've always been able to handle my drink, in fact I probably drink less than everybody thinks, but him, it was embarrassing, even for me.'

'Phryne,' he turned and grinned, 'I didn't think you'd be interested, in anyway shape or form. I said I don't want you to change, and I don't, just...'

'Jack,' she tipped her head and kissed him, 'you are the only man for me. I could never contemplate being with any other man, ever. Not now, not now you have..., you have loved me.'

'Let's get back to our room, I have a feeling...'

She ran her hand lightly down his front, just ghosting over his groin. He grabbed her hand,

'Not here.'

They made almost indecent haste back to their room crashing through the door and slamming it behind them, breathless and giggling.

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They stood facing each other, slightly apart. Jack reached out to touch her cheek, so soft, and slipped his hand round her head, pulling her to him and gently kissing her lips. She stepped forward and put her hands on his hips, inviting him to deepen the kiss, parting her lips, touching his with her tongue. Neither wanted this to be a frantic, animalistic coupling, but a loving, reaffirming of their need for each other.

She slowly pushed his jacket off his shoulders and undid his tie, never once breaking the kiss. His arousal was obvious but he had learned to control himself even if Phryne still had trouble in this regard. She unfastened the buttons of his shirt, removed his cufflinks and tugged it out of his trousers. She was becoming impatient, grinding herself against him, her breath coming in hard gasps before he pulled away.

'Phryne,' he took her face in his hands, 'slow down, I'm not going anywhere.'

'Jack, I...'

'Shh...' He pulled her close again and moved his hands down the soft, silken skin of her back to the buttons that he had fastened earlier that evening. He liked it when she wore dresses like this, the underwear was minimal, she would even forego stockings sometimes. The dress slid down to the floor leaving her standing in only her french knickers, which she felt was hardly fair, he still had his trousers on!

He nibbled her earlobes and her neck while she moved her hands down to undo his trouser buttons and push them to the floor. He pushed his shoes off and stepped out of the ring of his trousers. He picked her up and carried her to the bed, and lay her gently down, swiftly and expertly removing her remaining undergarments. She gasped again, as he started to kiss and taste her from her feet upwards, smiling as she pleaded with him to take her, but he carried on, up her legs her hips and all places in between, her belly, a quick greeting to his child growing there, which made her giggle, then up until he was at her mouth over her, his shorts still between her and heaven.

She raised her feet and pushed the offending garment down, his eyebrows rose, that was a new use for feet, he thought, as he started to tease her, she was so ready for him she was almost past the point of no return, then he entered her, set up a rhythm, easy at first then powerful sending her right over the edge making her call his name and dig her fingers into his sides as they released together. She held him there tight around him, heels pressed into his back until she could no longer keep him and relaxed under him almost unable to breathe.

Jack pulled the covers over them and kissed her head as she snuggled against him and sighed in satisfaction.

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Phryne woke slowly, the steady heartbeat of her husband under her head. She didn't want to move, it was so comfortable where she was. She smiled and sighed, feeling his arm tighten around her just enough to let her know he too was awake.

She stretched and decided to head to the bathroom. She wanted to bathe before starting the day and perhaps her husband would like to scrub her back.

Jack watched her from where he lay on the bed, the marks he had left on her body clearly visible. He recalled the little gasps every time he had nipped her or sucked at her.

'Jack!' Phryne poked her head round the bathroom door, 'it's going to be a tight squeeze...'

'You are so demanding, Miss Fisher,' he huffed, getting out of the bed and grabbing his robe.

She was already in the bath and, yes, it was small, in fact he wasn't sure they could both fit in there together, and there was no way they could do anything other than wash, well not without seriously injuring one or the other, or both.

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'Never mind love,' he offered her a towel, 'when we get home...'

'Better lock the door,' she grinned, 'don't want to frighten dear Dot.'

'True.' He pulled her into a passionate kiss, 'we still have the bed, and as we didn't spend too long in the bath...' He slipped his hand down under her towel and started to touch her between her legs eliciting a quiet moan. She pulled the towel from round his waist as hers fell to the floor. He pulled her back with him onto the bed and invited her to do her worst, or best, depending on the point of view, and she was more than eager. He really would have to introduce her to the finer points of patience in lovemaking. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Breakfast could be served or could be taken at the buffet. Phryne and Jack preferred the buffet, then Phryne, who was finding her tastes were changing a little could pick a little of something she liked and not find herself faced with a plate of food that she couldn't get down. This morning she decided she'd have some fruit and some pancakes. Coffee, of course, she thanked god she hadn't appeared to go off coffee, yet.

Jack watched her and smiled, so far the pregnancy, very early it was true, did not seem to trouble her, much. By his reckoning she would be almost two months by the time they got home.

'What are your plans today, Phryne?' He finished his breakfast of porridge and fruit, 'did you manage to get Mrs Charlesworth and Lady Dunstan to agree to coffee and tea?'

'Yes,' she sat back, content, 'Cecile for coffee this morning and Lady Dunstan for tea this afternoon. I thought we could all get together at some point, but I want to know why Lady Dunstan is so familiar.'

'Really? You think you know her from somewhere?'

'In the dim and distant past, yes.' Phryne poured herself some more coffee, not quite as strong as she usually drank it, but still very drinkable. 'What are you planning to do?'

'Charlie and I are going to meet up for a reminisce and maybe a game of billiards.' He buttered a piece of toast, 'I have no plans on meeting Dunstan.'

'Good, though I would think that given the amount of drink he took he's probably still comatose.' She pursed her lips, 'poor Lady Dunstan.'

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Phryne sat on the forward deck and read a book she had borrowed from the library. It was one she had read before but the latest Lord Peter Wimsey novel wasn't due out for another six months, if the rumours were to be believed. She hadn't wanted a book to concentrate on, it was more of a cover for watching her fellow passengers.

There were families and couples, a game of deck quoits was in progress and some children were playing shuffleboard. There were plenty doing as she was, sitting reading.

'Can I get you anything?'

Phryne shaded her eyes with her hand to see who had spoken, though she recognised the voice.

'Good morning, Talbot.' She smiled, 'not just yet, thank you, but at eleven could you bring me coffee for two. I have invited Mrs Charlesworth to join me.'

'Of course.' He bowed slightly and left her to her book.

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'Bonjour, Phryne.' Cecile stood at her feet.

'Cecile, bonjour.' Phryne looked up and smiled, she had been on the point of dozing off and felt sure that if she had done Cecile would have left her to her dreams. 'I'm sorry, it's rather relaxing just sitting here.'

Cecile went to her and kissed both cheeks. 'How are you settling in?'

'Quite well, I think.' Phryne pushed herself up and closed her book. 'I'm not usually given to such a sedentary lifestyle, I don't know if I'll get used to it, but for now...And you and Charlie? Although I suspect you are used to it.'

'We are, but this is the first time we've brought the children.' Cecile sat in the lounger next to her, 'usually they stay with friends.'

'Oh,' Phryne wasn't sure what to make of this, but it was something she would have to think about in the future. 'Where are they now?'

Talbot brought the coffee, briefly interrupting them.

'With some of the other children. There is a teacher working her passage by organising games and activities for them. It's one reason we felt they could come this time.'

Cecile changed the subject and they talked about their men, Phryne's cases, her life in Melbourne and her friends. Cecile had remarked that her new life seemed to be rather hectic.

'It is sometimes,' Phryne agreed, 'but if people in Melbourne will go and get themselves murdered, what's a girl to do?'

'Indeed.' Cecile considered her new friend. 'Phryne, what do you make of the Dunstans?'

'Oh, well...' Phryne considered her answer, 'I knew him, some years ago. Mother tried to make a match of him and me.'

'I feel sorry for Lady Dunstan,' Cecile sipped her coffee, 'she looked close to tears last night.'

'She did, didn't she?' The Honourable Mrs Robinson agreed, running her finger round the rim of her cup. 'I think I know her, but can't place her. I'm having tea with her this afternoon, then...'

'I can see that even when you are doing nothing, your mind is working overtime.'

'Oh, Mrs Charlesworth, what a thing to say.' They laughed about Phryne's apparent nose for a problem to be sorted.

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Over lunch Phryne told Jack of Cecile's concerns about Lady Dunstan.

'Are you worried about her?' Jack asked, scanning the room to make sure the subject of their conversation was not within earshot.

'I think I am.' Phryne mused, 'I mean, being married to a complete nitwit, and a drunk one at that is not going to be much fun. I don't expect he can perform in bed.'

'Phryne!' Her husband hissed.

'Well, come on darling,' she winked, 'it does affect a man's...'

'I wouldn't know,' he grinned back.

'How was your morning with Charlie?' Phryne changed the subject.

'Good,' Jack grinned, taking a mouthful of chicken pie. 'We had a good catch up. They're in Adelaide now, played a couple of games of billiards. I won, twice.'

'Is that proper, dear,' Phryne nibbled a peach, they really were lovely juicy fruit, 'beating one's former commanding officer?'

'The clue is 'former' commanding officer.' He laughed.

'I shall see you later,' she stood up, 'I'm going to have a rest before I tackle Lady Dunstan.'

Jack raised his glass to her and noted the look she gave him.

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Phryne slipped out of her day dress and stockings and lay on the bed in her slip, pulling a light cover over her. She rather hoped Jack would wander in, pretending he hadn't got the message but within minutes she was fast asleep. Which was precisely how Jack found her. He smiled, there was something almost child-like about his wife when she was asleep. He kicked off his shoes and hung his blazer over the chair, then lay next to her and closed his eyes, telling himself he needed to wake her up about an hour before she was due to meet Lady Dunstan. He could do that, wake up when needed.

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'I shall stroll round the deck while you entertain Lady Dunstan.' Jack helped her into her jacket.

'Join us later,' she smiled and leant forward to kiss him. 'Please.'

'Alright,' he returned the kiss, 'I'll give you about an hour, that enough?'

'Should be.' She tripped out of the room, smiling. He wondered what she had up her sleeve to help the young woman with whatever was bothering her.

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Phryne and Lady Dunstan arrived on the forward seating area at the same time.

'Lady Dunstan,' Phryne greeted her cheerfully. 'How are you today?'

'Mrs Robinson,' she had clearly been crying, no amount of make-up could hide the red rings round her eyes, or the end of her nose. 'I'm sorry, I...I shouldn't be here, I better go back.'

'Lady Dunstan, Emily,' Phryne put her hand on her arm. 'Please...' she indicated she should sit. 'I feel sure we have met before, but, I'm sorry, I can't for the life of me think where.'

'School, Mrs Robinson,' Emily sat, 'I wasn't in your set, scared of my own shadow, known as mother.'

'Ah, I wasn't the right kind of friend,' Phryne nodded, understandingly, 'don't worry, I got that a lot. I was a bit of a rebel. Still am.'

'You always seemed to be so happy, even when you got caught.' Emily began to relax, 'you had an answer for everything.'

'My poor parents,' Phryne laughed, 'they still despair.'

'But you have married.'

'Yes, but to a policeman, albeit a Detective Inspector, but a copper all the same.'

'He seems lovely,' Emily whispered, 'kind. He clearly loves you. Which leads me to an apology, for Edward's behaviour last night.'

'Don't bother about it,' Phryne laughed, 'I think my husband made it clear that I am not available.'

'You'd have been quite safe.' Emily sniffed, 'he was too drunk to do anything but fall asleep, he's always too drunk.' Tears pricked at her eyes, she had no idea why she was opening up to the former Phryne Fisher, school rebel.

'Emily...' Phryne reached out to hold her hand, as Talbot silently and surreptitiously set the tea down. She nodded to him as he left.

'Oh Phryne,' Lady Dunstan sobbed, 'I don't know how long I can keep this up. Everyone in our families keeps asking when we are going to have children, but how can we, when we don't...'

Phryne poured tea while she waited for Emily to continue, or not. She chose to continue,

'Not since our wedding night,' she continued, trying to control herself, 'he said it was disgusting, and...'

'I take it...' how to ask if Emily was untouched then.

'Yes,' Emily looked at her and Phryne's heart sank. 'So, although he appears to be a lecherous swine, it couldn't be further from the truth.'

'Oh, Emily,' Phryne sighed, 'I am sorry.'

'What do I do? I can't divorce him, the scandal...my parents thought they were joining two respected houses.'

The Honourable Phryne Robinson, Lady Detective, sat back and sipped her tea.

'You could take a lover,' she hadn't actually meant to say it out loud, jut think it.

'Phryne, I couldn't.' She hissed, 'what if something happened?'

'Like what?' Phryne turned into the naughty schoolgirl.

'Well, talk, I could get pregnant, blackmail.'

'You ready too many novellas,' Phryne laughed, 'you pick the right man, there are plenty who will be discreet, believe me, you treat him right, little gifts, keep him well, and if you get pregnant, well, how will Edward look if you are. The only blackmail would be you to him, to tell the world he's a drunk and can't, or won't perform in bed.'

'Phryne,' Emily blushed, 'I...'

'And if you don't want to get knocked up, I can point you in the direction of certain places that provide preventative measures.' Phryne lowered her voice.

'How do you know all these things?' Emily wished she'd ignored her mother and got to know Phryne when they were at school.

'Shall we just say I've had my moments.' Phryne smiled over her teacup, and seeing Jack approaching raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes to the side. He got the message and went to lean on the rail.

'Does your husband know?'

'Heavens, of course.' Phryne grinned.

'Phryne,' Emily lowered her voice, 'can I talk to you again.'

'Anytime, Emily,' she smiled, 'we old girls must stick together.'

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A bit of a different case for Phryne, but it might keep her amused for a while.

Thank you for the continuing reviews, so generous.


	10. Chapter 10

'So, Jack,' Phryne smiled as he took the place vacated by Lady Dunstan, 'how was your stroll.'

'Refreshing,' he looked at her, she had an odd expression on her lovely face. 'How was Lady Dunstan? Did you find out where you knew her from?'

'We were at school together,' Phryne caught the attention of a steward and asked for some fresh tea. 'Well, not together as such, she was there at the same time as me but not in the naughty girl's set.'

'I see, I think.'

'She said she was too scared to join, apparently I was not the sort of minor noble to be associated with.' Phryne grinned, 'though I did detect a hint of regret.'

'I suppose you got into trouble at school?'

'Well, I prefer to think I was misunderstood.' She pouted.

'I'm sure.' He smiled. The steward brought the tea and Jack tipped him. 'So, I take it she isn't happy in her life.'

'Edward is a drunk, he was a drunk when they married,' She sipped some tea, 'everybody keeps asking them when they are going to add to the line, but it's never going to happen.'

'Oh,' Jack thought, 'well, if he's always drunk...'

'Even so, it only takes once, as we know,' she looked over the rim of her cup, 'but he finds the whole act disgusting.'

'Ri i ight.' Jack thought, 'just a drunk or...?'

'Please, Jack,' she teased, 'you'll put me off my tea.' Though Phryne was not judgemental and as long as such practices weren't forced on her, the thought of Edward Dunstan doing anything remotely sexual seemed to revolt her, whichever team he batted for.

'What did you advise? I assume you did offer advice, she seemed slightly happier when she left.'

'I suggested she take a lover.' She said, archly.

Jack spluttered into his tea.

'Phyrne!' he hissed, 'you can't go around suggesting unsatisfied spouses take lovers!'

'Why not?,' she tried to look innocent, 'she gets what she wants, with luck the family gets what they want and Edward can drown himself in whatever alcohol he chooses.'

'But, Phryne,' he still couldn't understand quite what she meant, 'if she did have a child from this...arrangement...'

'Oh, yes can't you just see it,' Phryne sat up straighter, 'Edward trying to explain why Emily had to go somewhere else to satisfy the need for a child, he wouldn't dare.'

Jack could see that would, at least be embarrassing.

'Remember Jack, I know what 'society' is like.' Phryne looked at him almost sorrowfully, 'as long as one is discreet nobody cares. Nobody goes around saying their child is from the wrong side of the bed sheets because they are unable to give up the goods. Appearances, dear. Anyway, that level of society could do with a bit of sturdy blood. Look at Andrew, god forbid he should breed!'

Jack laughed at the thought of little 'Andrews' running around and he had to agree, from what he knew of history, it had been going on for centuries.

'What did she say?' Jack couldn't imagine someone like Emily Dunstan even considering having an affair.

'I think I piqued her interest.' She smiled a wicked smile.

'Why are they travelling?' Jack wondered if she had this nugget of information, 'I mean we're going home, so are the Charlesworths, others too, I would guess, some maybe stopping off at other ports, but I can't see why the Dunstan's are here.'

'I have yet to get that out of her,' Phryne admitted, 'I really just wanted the poor girl to feel a bit happier, you know I like happy people around me, Jack.'

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With dinner due to be served at seven Phryne and Jack took a stroll round the deck, ending up at their stateroom.

'Well, look at that.' Phryne grinned, 'we're here.'

'So I see.' He winked.

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Phryne sighed in her sleep. Jack smiled and leaned over to kiss her. He was noticing subtle changes in her since they had she had told him she was pregnant. She seemed softer, not that she was hard, just the way she cared for Emily in particular and the need to get home to Dot and Mr B. She regarded them as her family, much more than her parents.

She was still an enthusiastic lover, sometimes desperate for him but this time she had allowed him to lead her slowly, kiss her as he undressed her, as she undressed him and then taste her and nip at her before taking her in a gentle, almost lazy rhythm until they had both released with satisfied groans and sighs. She had taken to snuggling close to him afterwards, not talking or teasing with words, just letting her eyes close and telling him she loved him, that nobody had made her feel so loved as he did, then falling asleep on his chest their fingers interlaced.

He traced his finger lazily over her naked shoulder feeling a dimple, of sorts, there. He'd never noticed it before, but then he hadn't traced like this before, he thought he knew every square centimetre of her skin. He looked closely, wondering if she had caught it on something but it appeared to be an old scar. He bent and kissed it softly.

She shifted the shoulder and sleepily brushed her hand over the spot he'd kissed, then turned over and snuggled into his chest, kissing the strong muscle there.

'Phryne,' he whispered, 'time to think about moving. Do you want me to run you a bath?'

'Hmph.' She snuffled against him.

'Phryne,' he sang, 'wakey-wakey!'

'Jack,' she whined, 'What?'

'You have an hour to make yourself alluring for dinner.' He stroked her head, 'you are alluring for me, that goes without saying, but...'

She sleepily patted his cheek. 'Ok,' she sighed, she was far too comfortable where she was.

He smiled and slipped out of the bed to run her a bath, with some jasmine scented crystals, his preferred scent for her.

Phryne stood and watched him swirl the bath water. The muscles in his arm seemed to glisten with the steam, it was really rather sensuous. He looked up and smiled, his hair flopped over his forehead making her smile.

Phryne bathed and Jack showered in the small separate shower. She had woken properly now and was making all kinds of suggestions as they occupied the bathroom.

'Phryne,' he gasped at one of her more outrageous suggestions, 'just get ready for dinner,' but he thought he might go some way to accommodating her later and grinned while he had his back to her.

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The dining room was almost full when they, finally, arrived. Phryne had gambled that her red gown wasn't unlucky so had decided to wear it that night. Jack still loved it on her, and taking it off, but he thought it was one of the loveliest gowns she wore because of its relatively simple lines and the gems that were reflected in her beautiful grey-blue eyes.

He had to admit he was rather proud that she turned heads as she walked in and they were shown to their table. They had been seated where they could see people coming and going.

'Jack,' she whispered, 'there's Charlie and the family.' She nodded to the doorway.

'Can you stand a dinner with children?'

'I suppose I should get used to it, and they seem perfectly well behaved.'

Jack raised his hand and indicated that his former commanding officer and family should join them.

Lottie and Phillipe were on their best behaviour, their parents having told them they could dine with them that night, not expecting to be invited to be seated with the Robinsons. Phryne noticed Lottie fiddling with something under the table occasionally looking down when she thought nobody was paying attention. She 'accidentally' dropped her napkin and bent to pick it up and smiled as she saw an open book on the little girls lap. She sat back up and smiled at the little girl who went red but shyly smiled back.

The adults continued to talk about their home lives, until Cecile noticed Lottie not eating.

'Lottie,' she prompted her daughter, 'Lottie,' a little louder. Lottie looked up, guiltily and Phryne knew that she shouldn't be reading at the table. 'Lottie,' Cecile held out her hand for the book, 'we do not read at the table, we talk.'

'Yes, mama,' Lottie whispered.

Phryne recognised when a book held more interest than the conversation going on around, and she had been guilty of the same misdemeanour when she was young.

'It must be a very good book, Lottie,' Phryne smiled, 'my ward, at home, is always reading, sometimes at the table too.' Usually Jane only read at the breakfast table in the kitchen but Phryne didn't feel it was necessary to elaborate.

Lottie nodded.

'Perhaps you could read to Mrs Robinson, one day, Lottie,' Charlie smiled, 'when she's not busy.'

That wasn't quite what Phryne had in mind, not knowing how well the child read, but she agreed that perhaps they could arrange it. Lottie visibly brightened and set about finishing the chicken on her plate.

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The meal over Cecile took the children to bed before rejoining the adults in the salon to listen to some music. She slipped into a chair next to Phryne and leaned close to speak to her.

'I didn't see the Dunstan's at dinner, did you?'

'Come to think of it, no.' Phryne looked at her and frowned. 'I hope Emily's alright.'

'So do I.' Cecile thought for a moment, 'you don't think he...hurts her, do you?'

'I don't think he had the gumption.' Phryne scowled at the thought, 'perhaps he wasn't in a fit state to attend the dining room and she wouldn't come out on her own.'

'Hmm...' Cecile tipped her head in thought. 'I think I'd better check on the children.'

'I could do with a stroll,' Phryne thought Cecile was as sneaky as she was, 'may I join you?'

'Please do.'

They told their respective husbands that they were going out for a stroll before wandering out of the salon and heading to where the Dunstan's had their cabin.

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Phryne tapped on the door and the two ladies waited. They could hear movement and then the door was opened just enough for Emily to see her new friends standing there, concern all over their faces. She slipped out and closed the door behind her.

'Phryne, Mrs Charlesworth,' she whispered, 'is something wrong?'

Lady Dunstan was wearing a day dress of green cotton, her hair was plaited down her back and her face was free of make-up.

'That's what we were wondering.' Cecile smiled gently. 'You weren't at dinner.'

'No, er, no,' She stammered, 'we had a light meal in our cabin, Edward...'

Phryne looked closely at the young woman, there was a tiny breadcrumb at the corner of her mouth, so she had at least eaten something, but she looked tired and close to tears. Sensing her embarrassment, Cecile touched her arm,

'Why don't you join myself and Mrs Robinson for lunch tomorrow.'

'That's very kind of you...'

'Good, that's settled,' Phryne, seeing she was about to refuse, butted in. 'We'll see you at one o'clock in the dining room. Ladies only, eh?' She leant over and kissed her cheek. 'There's no need to hide from us, Emily, really.' She whispered, squeezing her elbow affectionately.

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Jack woke to the weight of his lovely wife draped over him, snuffling adorably in her sleep. She had confided in him about Emily Dunstan, saying how worried she was about her.

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The previous night:

'She'll be on her own,' Phryne pouted, 'far from her family, on her own effectively. I can't see Edward being of any help in getting settled.'

'Phryne,' he smiled and kissed her head, 'I have a feeling that wherever she ends up in Australia, she won't be on her own. Not with you anywhere within a thousand miles.'

'I intend to find out where she will be living and offer any help I can.'

'Good, now...' he pulled her down onto the bed, 'I need some help here, these buttons are stiff.' He pointed to his shirt and down to his trousers and she grinned to see his obvious arousal.

'What am I going to do with you, Jack Robinson?' She smoothed her hands over his chest and made short work of the shirt buttons.

'Well you did have some suggestions earlier.' He winked.

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Jack slipped out from under the sleeping form of his love and went to the bathroom. He stretched and looked in the mirror, there were probably as many marks on his torso as there were on Phryne. He grinned.

She heard him flush the toilet and rolled over stretching and sighing. Phryne was sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to him when he returned to the bedroom. He crawled over the bed and started to nibble her earlobes and stroke the bite mark on the top of her buttock. He didn't remember doing that! He _was_ the only other person involved in the 'activities', so he supposed he must have done.

She hummed and rolled her head to give him better access to her neck and much as she was enjoying his ministrations she too needed to visit the bathroom; sometimes nature got in the way of itself, she sighed and moved away.

'Back in a tick,' she patted his cheek as he sulked.

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'I'm so glad the breakfast buffet is open until late,' Phryne adjusted her skirt.

'You hungry again?' He stood behind her and kissed the top of her head.

'It must be the sea air coupled with...' she smoothed her hand over her, still flat, stomach. 'Can't think of anything else.' She grinned at his reflection in the mirror.

Jack couldn't believe how easily she had taken to their latest 'adventure', well so far anyway. There again, for a woman who regularly took on murderers, white slavers and gunmen in all shapes and sizes, he supposed she was approaching impending motherhood in the same reckless fashion. She was bound to be an unconventional mother, but he hoped she wouldn't take their child on stakeouts or undercover god knows where! He was sure her feelings would change, as her shape changed and she became more aware of the life she carried inside her, that it was bound to restrict her, eventually, she might start to blame him or rail against the design faults of a woman's body! Personally, he rather liked it.

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'Are you sure you don't mind?' Phryne sipped her coffee, 'about me lunching with Cecile and Emily.'

'Phryne,' he reached over the table and took her hand, 'I'd be in the way, and we agreed that neither would get in the way of the other, with cases. Well not anymore than we usually do, and this is not a job for a man, is it?'

'I think you and Charlie should go and drag Edward out of his cabin and give him a good talking too.' Phryne grinned.

'Believe you me, I'd like to,' Jack brought his brows together, 'but we hardly spoke at dinner that night, I suspect he'd be worse than Andrew for conversation. If we do happen to see him, we will make ourselves known to him.'

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Cecile was unsure whether Emily would appear for lunch, even though Phryne had almost threatened to go and drag her out. But she appeared, her hair neatly styled in a chignon, a light touch of make-up and a pretty cream cotton dress and matching shoes.

'I'm so glad you managed to get out of the cabin,' Phryne kissed her cheek, 'fresh air is most beneficial, so I'm told.'

'Edward's asleep, again.' Emily smiled sadly, 'I left him a note.'

'Ooh, Emily Dunstan,' Mrs Robinson teased, 'you little devil.'

Cecile wondered for a moment whether that was a good thing to say but slowly Emily started to smile and she sat down.

They ordered a selection from the buffet which Phryne had quite taken to as it seemed to have all her favourite dishes on. It was also reminiscent of some of the lunches Mr Butler would put up for her if she was working on a case. She also found she preferred to eat lightly, that some dishes set more heavily on her and made her feel a little nauseous, but she continued to eat well.

'So, Emily,' Cecile smiled, as she filled their glasses with iced water, 'what takes you out to Australia, a holiday?'

'Oh no,' Emily sipped the water, while working out how much to tell and how to tell it, 'Edward's father has bought a cattle farm out near Meredith and told Edward he has to run it.'

Phryne spluttered over a piece of quiche,

'Edward? A cattle farm?!' She shrieked, 'has the old man completely lost his marbles!'

Cecile and Emily looked at her in astonishment.

'Emily,' She recovered after a drink of water, 'Edward doesn't know one end of a cow from another. He'd have to ride out over the land...'

'Good job I can ride, then.' Emily grinned. 'Phryne, I know he's going to be completely out of his depth, but it is a scheme to get Edward away from the bottle and to make something of himself. Mind you, if it all falls apart Edward has been told not to go home, and quite possibly will be disinherited in favour of his cousin Harold.'

'Good grief.' Cecile gasped, 'What about you, Emily, what will happen to you if it all goes wrong?'

'I'll be stuck too,' Emily didn't look too worried, 'my marriage is a sham, Edward will drink himself to death, one way or the other and I don't care to go back to England as the widow of a useless, wine sodden excuse for a man.'

'Emily,' Phryne was astounded.

'It's meeting you again, Phryne.' She smiled, 'and having tea with you. I know it won't be easy, but at least I can make a new start in Australia, now I know that I am not alone, if you don't mind me staying in touch.'

'Emily if you even think about cutting me off,' Phryne reached over and squeezed her hand, 'I shall come and find you.'

'Please include me in that,' Cecile took her other hand, 'Adelaide is a bit further away but there's always the telephone.'

'Think of all those muscular farm hands,' Phryne sighed.

Emily blushed, but the thought hadn't escaped her, perhaps this voyage would be pleasant after all.

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The ladies decided on a stroll along the deck although Emily did think she ought to get back to check on Edward. Phryne spied Jack and Charlie near a lifeboat with one of the crew. From what she could see there was something of a disturbance and as they neared they could hear the crying of a young girl and see a figure wriggling, desperately trying to get out of the grip of the crewman. Jack appeared to be appealing to the man's better nature but it didn't look like he had one.

'Jack?' Phryne approached with her friends, 'is there a problem?'

'Unfortunately, yes.' He offered her his arm, 'this lass has been found hiding in this lifeboat.'

'Stowaway?'

'It would appear so.' Jack nodded, 'we were just wondering what to do with her.'

'I take it you,' Phryne looked at the crewman, 'want to keel haul her then throw her in the brig?'

'She'll be confined below decks until we get her back home then she'll be sent on her way.' The sailor stood firm, 'Captain don't want any trouble so it's easiest this way.'

'Why did you stowaway?' Cecile asked gently. 'It's a long time to stay hidden.'

'Nuffin' for me at home.' The girl sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. 'No work, no home. Might as well try a new country.'

'How old are you?' Cecile continued.

'Fourteen I fink.' She wiped the tears away with the heel of her hand, Phryne winced at the mangling of the English tongue.

She looked about twelve at the most, scrawny and filthy, she should have been in school.

'Charlie,' Cecile touched her husband's arm, 'may I speak with you?'

'You can't seriously let him put her in the brig and then put her back in England?' She hissed, 'she's a child.'

'What can we do?' He whispered back, 'she stowed away. She's lucky that's all they want to do.'

'Pay her passage.' Cecile had seen enough displaced children after the war and it still haunted her she couldn't do anything for them, 'she can travel with us.'

'Cecile!' He hissed, 'we know nothing about her.'

'She is a child, alone.' Cecile whispered back, 'what if that were Lottie? Wouldn't you want somebody to care?'

'...and when we get home?' Charlie mumbled, he had no problem with Cecile's desire to help the child, but...'she has no papers. No passport.'

The others watched the pair try to work out what to do.

'Jack,' Phryne pulled him away, 'what would happen if they took her with them?'

'Welfare, then passage back to England.' He pushed his hands in his pockets.

'Isn't there anything?'

'We need, at the very least English soil, an embassy would do.' He leant on the rail looking out over the sea, 'then maybe we could persuade them to issue a passport. There is the issue of her details, she barely knows her age...'

'If she's fourteen,' Phryne argued, 'then she could be in service.'

'Phryne...' he thought of Jane in St Kilda, 'god, I don't know.' He ran his hands through his hair disturbing the pomade. Jane was not in service, Phryne had legally become her guardian...

'Jack,' she was pleading, and Phryne didn't plead, well not for something like this!

'We dock in Gibraltar tomorrow, I'll see what I can do.' He sighed, and she kissed his cheek. 'Thank you.'

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It was an interesting group that turned up at the British Embassy in Gibraltar the following day. Cecile had persuaded the Captain to let her take the stowaway, now known to be one Lizzie (Elizabeth) Seddon, to their rooms and clean her up and try and find something to wear. Lizzie had yowled when Cecile had given her a good bath, changing the water at least once, and washed her hair, grateful to find she wasn't infested. She had dressed her in one of her own cotton nightgowns while she found something for her to wear the following day. She was so undernourished that Lottie's underwear fitted her but her dresses were too short, so Lizzie had to stay in the nightgown with a cardigan that Emily leant them and the shoes she had on when she was found.

Jack wasn't convinced they could make much of a case, beyond ensuring the child was at least sent back to somewhere where she would be cared for. They had the day to sort this out, for they would be sailing on the evening tide.

Charlie used his position as a retired Colonel and Jack put in his rank as Detective Inspector while Phryne added her social rank to the mix. Lizzie stood bemused at it all. Cecile had told her what they would like to do, to save her from being sent back, but they would only do it if she wanted them to.

'Missus,' Lizzie had sniffed, 'I don't wanna go back there. Me da beats me, and I dunno where me ma is.'

Judging from the bruises Cecile had taken note of when she bathed the girl, she could well believe it.

'Well, Lizzie,' she smiled, 'we will give you a post in the house, teach you, feed you and clothe you. In return you will have to show that you are a worker, I expect you to do as you are asked.'

'I'll do my best, missus.' Lizzie nodded.

'Good.' Cecile smiled and patted her shoulder.

And so there they were, at the Embassy.

Cecile and Charlie told Lizzie's story, which she also gave her side to. While most of her bruises could not be shown, one could, over her left shoulder, almost like a handprint. She winced when it was touched.

Phryne could see she could add nothing and asked if it would be alright if she took Lottie and Phillipe for a walk. Jack could see it brought back memories and thought that, although she would have to look after two children, it would be better if she left. If there were any problems it would be good if she wasn't around, given her slightly more emotional state.

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'Mrs Robinson,' Lottie tugged her sleeve, 'do you think we should get some clothes for Lizzie, only mine don't fit and she can't wear mama's nightgown all the time.'

'I think that would be a very good idea,' she smiled down at her, 'I'm sorry Phillipe, we'll be as quick as we can then we can find a cafe, perhaps for tea and cake.'

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Phryne was as good as her word and she managed to get enough underwear, nightclothes and day dresses for Lizzie, plus stockings and a coat and hat before taking the children to a small cafe and let them eat as much cake as they wanted and drink lemonade. She contented herself with coffee and a slice of chocolate cake.

On the way back to the embassy they called in at a small bookshop, something Phryne could hardly resist and she wanted to treat the Charlesworth children because they had been no trouble.

Armed with their purchases they strolled into the embassy building and to the office. As they entered Phryne took a deep breath, ready to argue the point but it appeared her input would not be required. Jack smiled at the bags she had, Phryne had been shopping it would seem, he wasn't surprised. He stood up to greet her.

'All set,' he smiled, 'a temporary passport to get her to Australia and then go from there.'

'Really?' Phryne raised her eyebrows and opened her eyes wide.

'Really.' He smiled, 'so, I suppose you've been shopping.'

'Well, Lottie pointed out that Lizzie can't live in Cecile's nightgown, so...'

'Phryne!' Cecile cried, 'you shouldn't have.'

'Why not?'

'Ladies,' Jack and Charlie called together, 'can we get back to the ship, or she'll sail without us.'

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With Lizzie settled in a small cabin near the Charlesworths Phryne and Jack asked if they could have dinner in their cabin. It had been quite a day and all they wanted was some time to themselves. They had three weeks before they would be home and even Mrs Robinson hoped it would be an uneventful journey from now on.

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The days passed lazily, deck games and tea, dinners and dancing, music in the salon in the evenings and for Jack and Phryne much loving whenever they were in their cabin.

An incident of ,what Jack termed, lumpy sea left Phryne with dreadful seasickness for nearly a week. Everything she ate or drank came back again and he began to be rather worried about her. She wanted nothing to do with him, she felt so ill. Cecile called by on the second day and said she would give Jack a break from placing cool cloths on her forehead.

'Come on, now, Phryne dear,' she soothed, treating her as if she were Lottie, 'you need to at least take some liquid in.'

'Oh Cecile,' Phryne moaned, 'it just comes back again.'

'Try this,' Cecile would not take 'no' for an answer, 'ginger tea. It's very soothing for an upset tummy.'

Phryne, too tired to argue, sipped the warm, but not hot, drink, waiting for it to make an appearance again. It didn't, so she tried again and was able to take a whole cup, albeit very slowly. She leant against Cecile's shoulder and sighed.

'I'm sorry,' she muttered, 'I'm not usually seasick.'

'Not even in a storm?' Cecile hugged her.

'No.' Phryne sighed, 'but I don't think it's just the sea.'

'Really?' Cecile smiled, newlyweds, and so in love. She had a feeling what Phryne was going to say.

'I'm pregnant.' She mumbled, biting her lip, it had all been going so well.

'How far on?'

'About six weeks.' Phryne sniffed, she hated crying in front of anyone, she still didn't much like to in front of Jack. 'Only you and Jack know.'

'I won't say anything,' Cecile kissed the top of her head.

'Thank you.'

'Now, I want you to eat a ginger biscuit, slowly.' Cecile offered her the plate.

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'Ginger biscuits and ginger tea, Jack,' Cecile spoke quietly as Phryne had fallen asleep again. 'She'll be fine.'

'She doesn't like being protected,' Jack sighed, 'so damn independent.'

'Which is why you love her so much.'

Jack smiled.

Cecile continued to take turns with Jack, caring for Phryne, and having her checked over by the ship's doctor a couple of times who said it was just an unfortunate case of mal de mer, and as long as she kept drinking she would recover in time.

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As the sea calmed Phryne began to feel a lot better and ready to show her face in public. She had breakfast in their stateroom, light fruit and pancakes, which she nibbled cautiously. Finding she was able to keep it down she allowed Jack to escort her on a turn round the deck and then to sit for a while at the forward seating area.

'Thank you Jack,' she smiled at him, 'sorry I was so beastly to you.'

'It's forgotten.' He kissed her cheek. 'Now, we have one more week on board then we dock in Singapore for an overnight stop and then...home.'

Phryne brightened, 'I suppose I'd better telegram Mr B and the red raggers.'

'Might be a good idea.' He smiled, 'Cec and Bert can transport the luggage.'

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In St Kilda Mr Butler accepted the telegram from the boy and went into the kitchen to read it with a cup of tea. There was only one person who would send him a telegram and it made him smile. Mrs Collins would be over that day to help with a little light housework, just keeping the house tidy between them.

'Arriving 21st Melbourne airport. STOP 7:15 pm STOP Car and taxi. STOP Miss Fisher.'

That was enough, and signing it 'Miss Fisher' would prevent a tidal wave of congratulations and a celebratory meal that she wasn't sure she would be up to.

Dot practically sang and danced as she dusted the surfaces and beat the rugs. She made a mental note to make up Miss Fisher's bed the day before, then the linen would be fresh. They would need fresh flowers in the rooms, too.

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By the time they docked at Singapore Phryne was back to her usual bright self. She spent the last day telling Cecile she was the best friend she could have had on the journey, she smiled at Lottie and Phillipe and apologised for not finding the time to hear Lottie read and passed her a little book of poetry she might like. She had a book for Phillipe too, a copy of 'Emile and the Detectives', which she hoped he would enjoy.

Cecile hugged Phryne, 'Remember, ginger tea and biscuits.' She whispered.

Lizzie had stood to the side while the farewells were made, then seeing her chance touched Mrs Robinson's arm. Phryne turned and smiled. The young girl wore a simple navy blue cotton dress and the shoes she had been found in, not having had the chance to take her to get new shoes.

'Mrs Robinson,' she spoke shyly, 'thank you for the clothes you bought me.'

'You are most welcome, dear. Take care of yourself and listen to Mrs Charlesworth and you'll be alright.'

They parted, the Charlesworths would fly out that day to Adelaide promising to stay in touch .

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The hotel was elegant, their room bright, dominated by a bed so big, Jack said he might need a map to find her.

'I think we should check it for comfort, don't you?' She grinned.

'Hmm...' he sat on the edge of the bed, 'what might you be thinking, Miss Fisher?'

'Well, Inspector...' she sashayed up to him and stood between his legs. He placed his hands on her hips and tipped his head up as she tipped hers down and they met for a gloriously deep and passionate kiss. 'That will do to start with.'

She pushed his jacket off his shoulders, unbuttoned his waistcoat and slipped his braces off over his arms before he could catch his breath. This time he was quite happy to let her strip his clothes off him, shirt buttons flew over the room, and as she wrestled with his trouser buttons he did the same with her skirt.

He pulled the skirt down and reached under her slip as she freed him from the restraint of his trousers and shorts. He removed her under clothes and pulled her onto him holding her hips, pushing his hands up under her blouse and feeling her raised nipples under the silk of her bra and slip. It was a frantic rhythm and a heady and quick release, something he was delighted with. Since she had been unwell she had had little stamina for mammoth lovemaking sessions. It would appear she was now ready to make up for it! His Phryne was back.

The finished undressing each other, leaving their clothes tossed on the floor, then explored their bodies with light touches and gentle kisses. Jack traced his finger up her stomach and smiled, there was an unmistakeable, but small, roundness to her belly. He bent down and kissed it, murmuring a greeting to his child, something he knew made her giggle, whether it was the act or the light breeze he blew over her skin, eliciting goose bumps and groans of anticipation, he would never know.

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They dined with the Dunstans and Phryne was almost pleased to see the Edward made a bit of an effort to be civil if nothing else. He was drunk, as usual, in fact neither Jack nor Phryne could remember seeing him sober for the entire trip. Emily was animated, talking about the farm and how she expected to spend her time in riding breeches and wanted to learn all she could about the animals and running a farm. Edward did not seem quite so enthusiastic.

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Retiring to their room for the night, and knowing they had an early start, the Robinsons still managed to fit in another session of lovemaking ,before falling asleep until the phone rang with an alarm call Jack had ordered.

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In the foyer of the hotel she took Emily aside and gave her one of her cards, knowing she wouldn't have the opportunity to do so when they landed.

'Call me anytime,' She hugged her, 'please. I know you can do this, Emily, and he can't stop you.'

'Phryne,' Emily looked at her new friend, 'I feel stronger since I met you. Edward still ignores me but that's ok, I am going to make the farm work.'

'Good girl.'

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The flight was not as bad as Phryne had anticipated, she ordered ginger tea to ward off any sickness, but found that although she felt slightly nauseous she could cope. Jack put his arm round her and let her doze on and off. When she was awake she was almost like a child with excitement and nerves.

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They parted from the Dunstans, Phryne still urging Emily to keep in touch, and then they were looking for Mr Butler who held a placard with 'FISHER' written on it. Dot stood next to him, a broad grin of welcome on her face, and the red raggers stood behind her, also grinning.

Jack stood one step behind as she hugged Dot, gripped Mr B's hand then shook the hands of the red raggers, happy tears streaming down her face, and she didn't mind a bit.

'Oh, I have missed you, so very much,' she took the handkerchief Jack offered, to blow her nose and wipe the tears.

'It's very good to have you home, Miss.' Mr B and Dot both said together while Cec and Bert nodded in agreement.

The luggage was loaded into the taxi and Mr and Mrs Robinson climbed into the back of the Hispano to be driven back home, really home.

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Phryne stood at the gate and looked up at her house. Jack went and stood next to her his hand at the small of her back.

'Alright?' He whispered as Mr Butler preceded them and unlocked the door.

'Yes,' she looked up and smiled.

'Come on then,' he offered her his arm and they strolled up the path, looking for all the world like the friends everybody knew they were. On the top step they stopped. A smile twitched at Jack's mouth, there was one tradition he could keep. He turned and swept her up into his arms.

'Jack!' She shrieked, 'what do you think you're doing? Put me down this instant!'

'Oh no,' he grinned, 'this is one tradition I intend to follow.'

'What?'

'Carry my bride over the threshold!' He placed her gently on her feet inside the house as Dot, Mr B and the red raggers stood staring at them.

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I thought that was the best way for them to announce that they were man and wife, Phryne might neglect to say anything out of a strange shyness.

This chapter was difficult to write, probably because not much happened, but I had to get them home, and too many crimes on board an ocean liner would stretch the bounds of probability, even for me. But at least they're home now.


	11. Chapter 11

'Jack!' She shrieked again, at first a little put out that he had announced their marriage with a fanfare, of sorts. He knew she would have found it hard to bring it into conversation, as no one would have the nerve to mention she was wearing certain rings on her finger, although Dot might have done later, in private. There was, of course, a chance that they would think it was an undercover case they were working on and it was part of that.

Phryne looked at his face, an expression of love, pride and impudence on it and she instantly forgave him. She truly had lost her mind over a man!

The assembled company just stood there with their mouths open until Dot swallowed and stepped forward.

'Miss?'

Jane careered down the stairs having heard her guardian's screams and flung herself at Phryne wrapping her in a hug so tight she could barely breathe.

'Miss Phryne!' she squealed down her ear, making Phryne wince, 'Oh, am I glad you're home? I've missed you. Why didn't you fly, why did you take a ship?'

Phryne disentangled herself and kissed her cheek,

'Hello darling.' She grinned, 'So many questions. How are you?'

'I'm fine,' Jane stood back and looked at her, she thought there was something new about her guardian.

'Mr Butler,' Phryne smiled at the warmth of greeting from Jane but knew that they would all have to sit down and talk. There was no way they could leave any of their news until later, even though both she and her husband were tired from their travels. 'Could we have some tea in the parlour and...' she looked at Jack, who nodded, able to read her mind, 'would you all join us, please.'

Jane was still hanging round Phryne's neck. Jack put his hand on his wife's back and whispered that perhaps she'd like to take Jane into the garden, have a little 'girlie' talk with her.

Phryne instantly knew what he meant. Jane was the one who may take the news of a further addition to the household with some concern for her own position there. It was something they had worried about on the journey home and had decided she should be told by Phryne, privately.

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Phryne sat on the bench in the setting sun and looked at this girl who had stolen her heart and was now blossoming into a beautiful young woman with her whole life ahead of her.

'Miss Phryne?' Jane smiled, 'is something wrong?'

'No, Jane.' Phryne looked at her, this was a difficult subject to broach so she thought that taking her gloves off might break the ice a little. She removed her right glove first and flexed her fingers. Then she slowly peeled off the left and held her hand out in front of her, inviting her ward to look.

'Is that..? Is that a wedding ring?' She whispered, looking more closely.

'Yes.' soft as a breeze.

'So, you and the Inspector..?'

Phryne nodded. Of all the people in her family she needed Jane's approval and understanding the most.

'But, I thought...' Jane's eyes were saucer wide, 'you didn't want to be married...to anyone.'

'No, I didn't.' Phryne admitted, 'but somehow I seemed to have lost my reason and...here I am, Mrs Robinson.'

'Are you happy?' Jane was still trying to process everything she had been told, which actually wasn't much and yet was so much.

'Oh, Jane,' Phryne's eyes shone with sheer joy, 'I can't tell you how happy I am, but I want you to know that I love you just as much as ever, I thought about you every day.'

Jane leant her head on her guardian's shoulder, 'I knew you and the Inspector would become more than friends, that much a blind man could see. Congratulations.' She kissed her cheek.

'Jane,' Phryne put her arm round her shoulders, 'it's not just that we're now married, there will be changes made, we...I...oh, damn!' She took a deep breath, 'Jane, I'm going to have a baby.' It all came out in rather a rush, before she lost the nerve to say it.

'Miss Phryne!' Jane looked at her, then shook her head, not believing what she had just heard, 'say that again.'

'I'm pregnant, knocked up, with child, in the family way.' She ran out of ways to say it. 'About two months, before you ask.'

'Well, I never thought I'd hear you say that.' Jane grinned, somehow this was one of the best things she'd ever heard, 'I take it you're ok with it?'

'If I wasn't I wouldn't have told you, and I'd have done something by now.' Phryne admitted, 'but Jack has been so supportive and says it's another adventure for me to go on. So at the moment I'm taking it a day at a time, but, Jane, darling, you will help me, won't you? I know you're young but you and Jack keep my feet on the ground. I know it's not going to be easy and I might get grumpy and horrible, but if I do just remember, I do love you, with all my heart.'

Jane knew that, because if her guardian didn't care one way or the other she would have told her with everybody else instead of on her own, where they could be quiet about it.

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Jack and Dot turned as the door to the parlour opened and saw Phryne and Jane with their arms around each other, it seemed that the little 'girlie' chat had obviously gone well.

'Thought you'd run away,' he stood up and went to greet them both with a kiss. He drew Phryne to sit next to him on the chaise.

Dot was on tenterhooks, Jack had told them nothing while they were waiting and still nothing was said until Phryne and Jane had cups of tea poured for them and plates loaded with sandwiches and Mr Butler's famous quiche.

Phryne took a sip of the tea and smiled, nobody made a simple cup of tea like Mr B, she set her plate down and looked round. It was like being wrapped in a huge soft blanket of love. She sighed.

In the end it was Dot who broke the silence,

'We're ever so glad to have you back, Miss.' She offered tentatively, eying her mistress's ring finger.

'I...we're glad to be home, aren't we Jack?' She squeezed her husband's hand, 'and I know you're wondering about the Inspector's little act at the front door. She smiled and looked at her husband, 'well, what you heard is correct, Jack and I were married, at Gretna Green, just over six weeks ago, before we set off for home.'

At first there was a stunned silence then,

'May I offer my congratulations, Miss Fisher and I'm sure I speak for the rest of us here.' Mr Butler smiled. There was a general muttering of approval.

'Thank you, Mr B, and I have decided to be known as Mrs Robinson, except for case work.' Phryne laughed, 'I'm sorry if it's a bit of a shock, but, well...'

'We felt it was right,' Jack smiled at her, 'then, and we know it is right now.'

'There is one other thing,' Phryne felt it was unfair to expect Jane to keep the secret of the baby so, in spite of only being in the early stages she decided she would share the rest of the news, then it was all over and done with. 'It would appear that we will be expanding our family, in about seven months time.'

Dot spluttered into her tea, 'what?!'

Phryne laughed, fortunately for Dot. Any other employer would probably have sacked her on the spot for gross insolence.

Mr Butler gentle patted her back until she was able to breathe properly again.

'I'm sorry, Dot.' Phryne went over to sit on the arm of the chair, 'perhaps I should have spoken to you alone but, I, Phryne Robinson, nee Fisher, hitherto avoider of small children and babies, is about to add to the population of Melbourne, in the State of Victoria, Australia, by producing her own small human aided and abetted by Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.'

'Miss... you're pregnant?' Dot gasped.

'Afraid so, Dot.' She grinned, 'in the family way, knocked up, expecting, however you want to put it, that's me.' Phryne was glad about the way she had told everybody, it also made it feel even more real, if that was at all possible.

'Crumbs.' Her companion gulped.

'Indeed, Dot.' Phryne whispered, 'as you say, crumbs!'

'Is that why you came by sea, Miss, er Mrs Robinson?' Dot asked, still trying to process all that was going on.

'Unfortunately I found flying...unsettling, is the best way to describe it.' Phryne smiled, this was so much easier than she thought it was going to be. 'I sold the plane and we decided on a sea voyage.'

'But, didn't you get seasick?' Jane asked, 'if you couldn't fly because...'

'I managed rather well,' Phryne put her arm round the girl, 'except for a bit of rough sea at one point, but another passenger suggested ginger tea and biscuits. I was pretty rotten to you, though, wasn't I, Jack?'

'I'm sure I never noticed, love.' He smiled.

'Now,' Phryne sat up straight, 'I'm sure the things I sent arrived ages ago, and I hope you opened everything and put them away.'

'Yes, Miss.' Dot was now back on more familiar territory. 'Thank you for the driving gloves, and Hugh has started to teach me to drive.'

'Good,' Phryne smiled and listened to their news and the thank yous for her thoughts before she tried to stifle a yawn.

'Perhaps, Mrs Robinson,' Mr Butler stood up, 'dinner in half an hour?'

'That would be lovely, Mr B.' Phryne knew he would have something already prepared, ever resourceful and thoughtful about her needs.

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Phryne stepped out of the bath and allowed Jack to wrap the towel round her. It was wonderful to have a bath big enough for two again and they had made good use of the time and space until there was a danger she would fall asleep in the water.

They slipped between the silk sheets, not bothering with nightwear and Phryne curled against Jack, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep. He lay there with his arm around her, smiling and he too joined her in slumber.

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She didn't wake when he got out of bed and dressed for the day. He had told her he would spend at least the morning down at City South Station, alert the commissioner to his return and get a quick overview of the current cases. He hoped to be back for lunch, but couldn't promise.

As he crossed the room to the door she disturbed and mumbled his name. He paused and went to sit on the edge of the bed and pulled the sheet to cover her breasts.

'Go back to sleep, darling,' he kissed her head softly, 'I'll see you later.'

She snuffled into the pillow which always made him smile, still so childlike in sleep.

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Filled with a good breakfast Jack felt all was well with the world but he did wonder what Mr Butler made of the sudden change in the household.

'No more than I expected, sir.' Mr B admitted. 'After all, why else would you have gone after her?'

Jack managed not to blush but left a little more hastily than he needed to.

He took the tram to the station. His own car was standing on the drive to his old home, and would likely need a little attention before it would start, and he couldn't very well take the Hispano, so the tram it would have to be.

Hugh Collins was at the desk when he arrived. Dot had told him what had happened when she had got home from greeting her mistress the previous night. He'd not said anything to anyone else at the station, Dottie had said that was for the Inspector to do, but he could offer his own congratulations, which he did, with a huge grin across his pleasant face.

'Thank you, Collins.' Jack smiled and headed to his office, where he was sure he would find his temporary replacement.

The man at his desk was not known to him, younger than he was and looking a little careworn already. Inspector Wilson had been fairly new to the position when he was asked to step into Jack's shoes for six weeks. Jack introduced himself and asked how he had found City South.

'Busy, sir.' Wilson admitted, 'two murders, that we still haven't cleared up, several burglaries, those are dealt with, we got confessions and the usual drunks and traffic offences.'

'Right,' Jack mused, 'I'm sorry I was a little longer than planned, change of plans.' But he didn't elaborate. 'I need to let the commissioner know I'm back and will take the case files for the murders with me, if you can hold the fort for another day.'

Wilson had heard that Detective Chief Inspector Robinson sometimes took case files home to work on, but he didn't think it would help, just staring at the same pages even in the quiet of his own flat. He didn't know of the additional resources Jack had at home.

Wilson left the office so Jack could make his phone call. He tried to make conversation with Hugh but he had never understood the young constable's insistence that they re-question the witnesses to the murders or that they go to the morgue to see the body and question the doctor, which had been Dr Macmillan. Hugh had given up trying to persuade him and gone himself in his own time. Mac had been very helpful and he had written up his notes and added them to the file. Wilson had read them but instead of speaking to Hugh for clarification on a few points he'd put them to the back of the folder, the deaths had been due to stab wounds that had bled profusely, but Mac had noted other marks prior to death and these, Hugh knew, could be very important in their solving of the case.

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Phryne eventually woke an hour after Jack left. She vaguely remembered him kissing her head and telling her to go back to sleep and as she stretched she smiled. A gentle tap on the door and Dot entered bearing a tray of coffee and toast, that Jack had suggested his wife might appreciate some time after he left. Dot knew when her mistress preferred to wake and had judged that this would be the best time.

'Oh Dot,' Phryne smiled and sat up, pulling the sheets over her, more for Dot's sensibilities than her own, 'thank you.'

'Shall I run your bath, Miss?' Dot smiled, it was so easy getting back into routine, though she had admitted to herself she would have to be careful when entering the bedroom if the Inspector was there.

'In a moment,' Phryne patted the side of the bed, 'sit and talk with me first.'

Dot dutifully sat and waited for Mrs Robinson to start the conversation.

'I've rather startled you, haven't I?'

'Well, I suppose so, Miss.' Dot agreed, 'I mean you always said you would never marry or have children, then you go away and do that very thing.'

'Mmm...' Phryne took a sip of the wonderful strong coffee, 'perhaps it was wrong for you to let me out of your sight,' she teased.

'Oh, Miss, I didn't mean...' Dot was aghast that she thought she disapproved.

'I know you didn't, Dot.' Phryne patted her hand, 'it's as Jack said, even though I had already caught when we tied the knot, but, that wasn't the reason, it felt the right thing to do for us.'

'I'm glad you did it, Miss.' Dot almost whispered, 'we all knew you loved each other.'

'I'm beginning to think the only person who didn't know was Jack.' She laughed.

'Did you know?' Dot had never had such an intimate conversation with Miss Fisher, 'that you loved him.'

'From the first case, I think.' Phryne lay back on the pillow and stared into space, 'at least I think it was then. I don't know why, my past record with men has not been one of love, lust really...' she saw Dot blush, '...sorry, Dot, but after the war and everything, Rene... I didn't dare trust anyone to actually care for me as a person, so I reciprocated. Maybe I was wrong...'

'A kind of self preservation, Miss.' Dot offered, 'so you wouldn't get hurt again.'

'That's probably right, Dot.' Phryne agreed, 'but Jack didn't rise to the bait, and when he started to work with me and not against me, though, god knows, I've given him cause to, and we have had our spats, our disagreements, and I have driven him mad on occasions..I hope it has grown to be a mutual respect as well as love. That said, I will still annoy the hell out of him.'

Dot stood up and smiled, 'I'll run your bath, then, Miss. Do you have plans for today?'

'I think I'll invite Mac to lunch, I need to make an appointment with my solicitor for me and Jack and I better invite Aunt P to dinner. I don't know if my mother has informed her, there again, judging from the telegram I received on the ship she didn't believe me anyway.' Phryne reached for her robe and got out of bed to start to find her clothes for the day, so unused to having Dot do it for her.

'I'll do that, Miss,' Dot called as she headed to the bathroom. 'Black trousers, cream blouse?'

'Oh, Dot.' Phryne hugged her, 'I have missed you.'

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'Hello, Mac!' Phryne laughed down the phone, 'how are you?'

'Where are you, you mad woman?!' Mac answered, pleased to hear from her friend whose news she only got through Dot these days.

'Home! Come for lunch, please.' It wasn't a request nor was it an order, just Phryne.

'Alright.' Mac stood in the morgue with a huge grin on her face, 'tell Mr B I've been starving these past weeks.'

'I'll bet. See you at one.'

Phryne put the phone down while she looked for the number of her solicitor then stopped. While Jack didn't control her, as a married woman she almost forfeited her rights to control her own money or investments. Damn! He said he wouldn't change her, and he hadn't so far, but would he want to have control of her wealth, which, through judicious planning was not small, perhaps this would be better talked through with him first. She was never very cautious over such things, just went ahead and did it, with no thought to the other people who it would affect, but now, she would have to rein herself in a bit, over this anyway.

She put it out of her mind for now and steeled herself to invite Aunt Prudence to dinner. Much as the old woman tried to interfere in her life and disapproved with her over her lifestyle she did love her, she knew that in an emotional crisis Aunt P would provide that shoulder, with a few pertinent remarks about how it was all her own fault.

'Mrs Stanley, please.' The phone was answered by a maid and while she waited, she wondered how she would actually tell her aunt all her news. 'Aunt Prudence...'

'Phryne! Darling where on earth are you?' Prudence Stanley was genuinely delighted to hear her niece's voice.

'I'm back home, Aunt,' Phryne smiled, 'back at Wardlow.'

'Oh, my dear girl, I'm so glad you're safe.'

'Why wouldn't I be?' Really she could be so dramatic sometimes.

'Well, flying, and your father...'Phryne could see the reason her aunt would worry.

'Oh, never mind him, he's sorted. Now, dear Aunt Prudence, do come to dinner tonight. I've so much to tell you and it would be so much easier face to face.'

'Are you sure, darling?' Mrs Stanley was used to getting spur of the moment invitations from her niece, but... 'aren't you rather tired from your travels?'

'A little, that's why I'm inviting you here,' Phryne smiled down the phone, 'then if I need a nap..'

'Phryne, you never need a nap. However, I would be delighted,' Prudence was smiling at the other end of the phone.

'Good, seven o'clock, then.'

That settled Phryne went in search of Mr Butler and a possible snack.

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Mr Butler was in the kitchen preparing some vegetables for later, he knew he would need them for dinner at least.

'Mrs Robinson,' he stopped mid peel of a carrot, 'can I get you something?'

'I only had some toast, Mr B...' the request hung in the air.

'May I suggest coffee and pancakes with fruit.' He put his peeler down.

'Sounds lovely,' she smiled, so nice to be able to nip into the kitchen and request something to eat without having to wait for someone to answer the bell.

'Orange juice?' He offered as a beverage while she waited.

'Please.' Phryne watched him move around the kitchen easily and sat at the table. 'Mr Butler, Dr Macmillan will be joining us for lunch today, and Mrs Stanley for dinner tonight, I hope that won't put you out too much.'

'It's been rather quiet here lately, Mrs Robinson,' Mr Butler was being uncharacteristically frank with her, 'It will be no trouble at all.'

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Satisfied, but not too full, from her late breakfast Phryne went to look at the correspondence Dot had left in the study. There were a few requests for her help with delicate matters, that is, my daughter/son is/has made/is planning on making an unsuitable match; my husband has disappeared with the parlour maid or the housekeeper seems to be misappropriating funds, all of which Dot could have dealt with but, on seeing the note her companion had left her, apparently Dot wasn't good enough. That maddened Phryne, Dot was more than good enough to investigate such trivial cases, in fact she was better than most of them who had requested help.

She sighed and set about ringing each inquirer to find out if the case still needed investigating and assuring those that still required her help that she would get on it the following day as she had just returned from extensive travels. She did not mention that the extensive travels also included seeing off a most unsuitable suitor, solving a murder, getting married and using the trip home as a honeymoon. She wondered if Jack was having a more interesting morning.

There was a letter from her mother again asking if she was joking about marrying Jack Robinson. While she liked the Inspector and trusted him to keep her daughter safe she didn't seen him as a potential son in law, no matter what her husband said, just another of Phryne's dalliances. Phryne realised she had never written back to her mother after receiving the telegram and decided she would have to write sooner rather than later, talk about double standards!

With the last of her correspondence dealt with she was happy to help Dot go through the clothes she had bought while away. Dot agreed that all were more than wearable, and commented on some of the day dresses her mistress had purchased, how nicely made they were and the colours were most becoming. She even echoed Jack's words about the evening dresses she had bought in Liverpool, that she had better not let Madame Fleurie know she had bought prêt a porter. Phryne laughed and said she had no intention of letting the dressmaker in on that little secret.

'I could always remove the labels, Miss.' Dot suggested, 'you could say it was a dress maker starting out that you had given some work to.'

'Mmm...Dot you're getting sneaky.' Phryne smiled, 'but just cut the labels out, in case I go to her for a dress fitting.'

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Dr Elizabeth Macmillan heaved a sigh as she stood at the door to her friend's house. It had been too long she thought, as she rang the bell. She was admitted into the house by Mr B, who took her bag and hat and showed her into the parlour, where Phryne sat with a glass of lemonade, which she put on the side table as she leapt up to embrace her oldest friend.

'Mac!' She hugged her tight, 'good to see you.'

'Well, Phryne,' the doctor hugged her back and took the whisky offered by Mr Butler, 'you are in good spirits.' She stood back and looked at her, 'You look absolutely marvellous darling, the sea air did you good.'

'More than that, Mac.' Phryne sat down neatly hiding her left hand and sipped her drink.

'Phryne Fisher are you drinking lemonade?' Mac was about to get up and check her temperature.

'Haven't touched a drop for over six weeks.' Phryne smiled a self satisfied smile.

'Good god,' Mac gasped, 'not gone on the wagon my dear, have you? The distillers and vintners will close down.'

'Mac,' Phryne pouted, 'you make me sound like my father. There will always be good whisky and wine for those that partake, it's just that I find it distasteful, at the moment. I'm sure that in about seven months I'll find the taste again.'

'Why seven months?' Mac was really struggling with her friend's new found restraint.

'Jack Robinson knocked me up.' That's right, blame Jack, she grinned.

Mac downed her drink in one and helped herself to another, larger, measure.

'What!?'

Phryne revealed her rings as she went to sit next to Mac.

'Bloody hell, Phryne!' She blurted out, 'what about..?'

'Er...got carried away.' Phryne couldn't even look sheepish, after telling the household she really was quite happy about the situation, now.

'But...I could have...'Mac knew her friend was not enamoured of children, that was why she had the diaphragm, so she didn't find herself in that situation, ever, 'who are you, and what have you done with Phryne Fisher?'

'Mac.' Phryne touched her arm, 'It's ok, I want this, we want this.'

'Really?'

'Yes, really,' Phryne's tone had softened, 'at first I was unsure, Jack and I, well we had only...once... and because we weren't going to in my parents' house I didn't have my device in. We weren't going to because we were there, but, things happened, and then later. I think I knew immediately. I felt different and Jack, he is so supportive. I'll make a lousy mother, I know, but I can't say my own was that marvellous, so we take each day at a time.'

'The rings..' Mac looked at her hand.

'...are not just for show.' Phryne twisted her wedding ring round. 'Gretna Green, six weeks ago, but, absolutely not because of the baby,'

'...because it's what we want, what we feel is right.' Neither had heard Jack come in. Phryne looked up and smiled and Mac noticed the spark between them, much more than she had noticed before. 'Hello doctor, how are you?'

'I'm probably more shocked than I thought I'd be.' Mac grinned at him and held up her glass in salute, 'well, to Inspector and the Honourable Phryne Robinson.' She swallowed the amber liquid and blinked as it hit the back of her throat.

Jack bent to kiss his wife softly on the lips, 'Good morning?'

'Just going through the post, one from mother, which I will have to reply to, and a few possible cases.' She smiled, 'I invited Aunt P to dinner.'

'Good,' Jack poured himself a drink, 'I've missed her.'

Phryne giggled, 'Oh Jack.'

Lunch was an enjoyable affair, once Mac had got over the shock.

'I'd like you to look after me, medically that is, through the pregnancy,' Phryne touched Mac's arm.

'I'd be delighted,' Mac smiled, 'I'll see you get the best room in the hospital.'

Phryne frowned, 'Can we discuss that at a later date, please.'

Jack noticed the apprehension in her eyes, 'Phryne, darling?'

'It's far too soon,' she lifted her head and inhaled, 'we'll talk about that nearer the time.'

'Of course, darling,' Jack reached over and squeezed her hand, but wondered what had spooked her.

Mac said she'd like to schedule an appointment for Phryne just a check up, blood and urine tests, but otherwise was quite happy to see her once a month until she was well into her pregnancy. Phryne agree that this would be fine for her, knowing there were questions she would want to ask in time, until then she would do some reading.

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To take her mind off the comment about the hospital Phryne probed Jack for details of the murders Inspector Wilson had not been able to solve.

Two women had been found stabbed at the docks. Their bodies had been covered by tarpaulins and hidden behind crates of imported pottery. The witness statements, such as they were, told them practically nothing. Nobody knew the names of either woman, and nobody had seen them walking about the docks either working or touting for business.

Phryne read the description of the clothes, thanking god for Hugh's attention to detail. They were serviceable dresses, plain, not yet mended. The stockings were rayon, cheaper than silk but still good quality. Neither woman wore a coat or hat and their plain black mary-jane shoes had been polished over the worn leather.

'So, not society ladies, possibly companions, neither wore a wedding ring or showed signs of having worn one,' Phryne continued to read out loud, 'according to Mac's report,' she shuffled some papers, 'here,' she pointed to the doctor's usual spidery scrawl, 'light make-up, smudged lipstick. There are bruises on the cheeks, as if they've been slapped.'

So they've been pushed around at the least,' Jack sat back, enjoying being back in the fray with Phryne, 'any other marks?'

She looked at the report again and scanned down the page, 'No,' she pouted, 'it doesn't look like there was any attempt at an assault, no bruises around the genital area, all underwear, cotton, in place. Oh, a finger bruise over the right breast on one.'

'Well, my darling,' Jack rubbed her back, 'perhaps tomorrow we can really get stuck into it, but for now, Mrs Stanley is due in an hour or so, and I don't know about you but a bath would be rather relaxing.'

Her head whipped round and she caught his lascivious look and the beginnings of his need for her.

'Relaxing is not quite what you have in mind, is it, Inspector? She returned the look and smiled.

'Maybe,' he stood up and extended his hand.

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Phryne turned the key in the bedroom door, she rarely, if ever, did this but if there was a chance that Dot would wander in to lay out her dress for the evening... She would have to come to an arranged sign so that Dot would know if it was safe for her to enter.

Jack took his jacket off and hung it up, just as he used to at his little house and as he had done all the time they had been together, then his waistcoat, as Phryne went into the bathroom and started to run the hot water into the bath and added some bath salts.

She stood in the doorway watching him, his movements were studied, but relaxed. Years of looking after himself had left him rather routine driven, she rather liked it, because when he wasn't he was just plain driven and she liked that even more!

She turned round to turn off the tap and as she did so Jack came up behind her and slipped his hands round her waist. She hummed and leant back against him. It was these little, almost domestic, loving touches that endeared her to her husband, and she let him run his hands up to her breasts and stroke her nipples through the silk of her blouse and bra and those touches even more. He unbuttoned her dress and slipped it down off her shoulders so it lay in a ring round her feet. He proceeded to gently undress her, pressing little kisses to her until she stood, like him, completely naked.

He massaged the warm water into her shoulders and let her trail her fingers up and down his legs either side of her, until she was moaning with desire. He trickled water over her shoulders and ran his hands round her and down between her legs until he knew she was just on the cusp of bliss then lifted her onto him letting her set a rhythm while he continued his hand movements until she gasped and threw her head backwards panting in her release. He could imagine the look on her face, her eyes wide with rapture as little aftershocks ran through her body. He ran his hand gentle over her stomach, feeling it a little rounder than when he first took her all those weeks ago in her parents' home. He kissed her back, just between her should blades and she giggled softly.

They got out of the bath as the water cooled and dried each other off before donning their robes so Dot could lay out at least her mistress' clothes for the evening, if not the Inspector's clean shirt and suit. Perhaps they should make one of the next rooms into a dressing room, so Dot did not have to encounter them in bed in the morning or evening, or afternoon or whenever they were in bed, particularly if they weren't planning on sleeping.

'That might work.' Phryne spoke her thoughts out loud.

'What might?' Jack pulled on clean underwear to further save Mrs Collins' blushes.

'Turning one of the other rooms into a dressing room.' Phryne sat on the bed and watched him decide to dress so Dot could come in and do what Dot did.

'Why?'

She rolled her eyes, he was supposed to read her mind. 'So Dot can lay out our clothes, or at least mine, without having to wait for us to be decent.'

'Oh, well, I suppose so.' He pulled his braces over his shoulders, 'does that mean the wardrobe would have to move too?'

'Of course.' She shook her head, 'tell you what, lover of mine, why don't I sort it out.'

'Your house.' He went over to her so she could knot his tie, not that he couldn't do it himself, just that she liked to do it for him, and he liked her to.

'Our house, my dear husband.' She kissed him. 'Which brings me to another thing.' She patted the bed indicating she wanted him to sit and when he did so she draped herself over his shoulders, 'we need to see my solicitor, about putting the house in your name, as I am now a married woman that's how things are.' He felt her pout against his ear.

'In both our names, or it stays in yours.' Jack stated matter-of-factly. 'I'm taking nothing from you, Phryne, you know that. You have survived very well without my interference and I have no intention of taking that from you.'

She wriggled round to look at him, 'Jack, it doesn't work that way. As my husband you are supposed to have control.'

'Bugger that, Phryne!' He snapped, then softened his tone, 'we are a team, a partnership, I refuse to control you, even if I could. I told you I didn't want to change you, nor do I want you money. Sweetheart, it's you I married, whatever anyone else might think, not your bank balance.' He looked saddened at the ridiculous hoops they would have to go through just because he had put a ring on her finger.

'Well. we'll see what he has to say.' She smiled at the stubborn, proud and lovely man she had lost her mind over, and knew that was why she had.

He kissed her and stood up. 'Dot will want to help you dress, I'll see you in the parlour.'

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He was standing by the fireplace swirling a whisky round in the glass. He hadn't touched it yet, wondering why he was so angry about convention decreeing her money was now his. He supposed they would have to talk about it, and what to do with his little house, but not tonight, they had Prudence Stanley to deal with tonight. He was still musing on everything and nothing when his wife entered. She looked utterly gorgeous. She wore a new dress, well new to him, anyway, of dark green velvet fitted to her waist, sleeveless, falling to mid shin at the front and just above her ankles at the back. It was overlaid with a sleeved coat in fine silk organza with white embroidery round the edges of the neck and the hem. She wore an emerald hair decoration that sat at the crown of her head like a lattice work cap.

'You look lovely.' He smiled as she stepped to his side, 'and I'm sorry about the money and house thing.'

'No worries,' She tiptoed up to kiss his cheek, then wiped away the smudge of lipstick with her thumb, 'I knew you'd react like that, that's why I waited to speak to you before I rang the solicitor.'

'Thank you.' They were interrupted by Mr Butler bringing a fruit juice drink for Phryne, now that she was off whisky he was concocting soft drink cocktails for her.

'Thank you, Mr B.' She sipped the drink and signalled her approval, 'best have a sherry ready for my aunt, she may need it.'

They were discussing what she was going to put in the letter she had yet to write to her mother when Mrs Stanley arrived. They heard Mr Butler greet her and help her out of her coat, then the door opened. As she had done with the household Phryne kept her left hand out of sight until she had greeted her aunt and sat her down with a sherry.

'Oh, Phryne,' Prudence smiled, 'you look very well. Good evening Inspector,' she nodded at Jack who was standing by the fireplace again.

'Mrs Stanley, it's nice to see you again.' He smiled at her, there was no way she could interrupt any little touches between him and her niece now.

'Thank you Aunt P,' Phryne kissed her cheek, 'so do you. Restful without me, was it?'

'Rather dull, to be honest, dear.' Mrs Stanley had genuinely missed, what for her was, the chaos her that generally followed Phryne around.

Phryne laughed, 'Well we're back now, we'll try and liven things up for you.'

The use of the pronoun 'we' did not go unnoticed by the older woman and she raised an eyebrow, Phryne stood up and went to stand next to Jack, lacing her fingers through his.

'Yes, we.' She had understood what the look meant. 'Aunt Prudence, ' she paused, 'Aunt Prudence while I was away I'm sure you are aware that Jack followed me to England. Well, we came to an arrangement, and it's obvious mother hasn't written to you, so ...Jack and I got married, six weeks ago.' There she'd managed to get it out.

Stunned silence.

'No, your mother hasn't written,' Mrs Stanley whispered as she processed what she thought she had heard. 'Phryne, did you say you two are married?'

'Yes, we are.'

'To each other.'

'Of course, who else would have me?' A little smile played at the corner of Phryne's mouth.

Tears sprang to Prudence's eyes and she put her hand to her mouth,

'Oh darling,' she put her untouched sherry down, carefully, and stood up. Moving over to them she took their hands in hers, 'Phryne, my dear child, that's the best news I could ever hear. Congratulations, and good luck,...Jack.'

While she was delighted that her niece was now married and presumably settled, though she doubted she'd be content to sit at home waiting for him to return after his day at the station, she was aghast to be told that there was a baby on the way, and then she did drink her sherry, and requested another. She did, however, offer her support and her congratulations.

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Well, that's that out of the way, now a double murder to solve.

I decided that although Prudence didn't really approve of a police officer as a suitable consort for her niece, she would be happy for Phryne, because she does love her.


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you for the lovely reviews, you are all so generous with your words. Here is another chapter to, I hope, keep you interested.

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Phryne shifted at the whisper of her name. She was lying over Jack's chest, drooling slightly,

'Hmm..?'

'Sweetheart,' he murmured again, 'I need to get up, remember, we said we'd meet at the docks, later. To look at the crime scene?'

'Oh, yes..' she lifted her head and smiled her cock-eyed, after a night of passion, smile. 'Who are you taking with you?'

'I think we'll have Wilson and Collins.' He sat up with her still hanging round his neck, 'we can show the new Inspector how it should be done.'

'That only works if we catch whoever did it.' She kneeled in front of him, naked and rather lovely, with her hair mussed up and her cheek red from lying on him.

'...and when do we not?' He leant forward and kissed her, neatly slipping out of bed before they started something they would have to finish which would make everything run behind hand.

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Phryne was going to go to the morgue first, and see the bodies. She wanted to know if Mac had any other ideas and it was easier if she actually knew what the victims looked like, it helped her form a story. Then she would meet Jack at the docks.

'I really must get my car here,' Jack told her over breakfast, 'do you think the red raggers could get it to the garage for me, for a service?'

'Don't see why not.' Phryne spoke with her mouth full of croissant and preserve. She swallowed, 'I'll ring them before I go to the morgue. Are you going to get into trouble for involving me in this case?' Not something she usually worried about, but it was nice of her to ask, Jack thought.

'It's been going on too long, I'm rather hoping the commissioner will be glad to have it cleared up, however I do it.' He reached over and kissed away a stray crumb from the corner of her mouth. She lowered her eyes, coyly.

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Phryne looked down at the two girls. Mac watched her, wondering how she really felt about marriage and motherhood. She couldn't believe how calm her friend had been about something she had so studiously avoided. Jack Robinson must be one hell of a man, a damn good copper, yes, but he must be much, much more for Phryne Fisher to fall head over heels for him.

'Mac,' she disturbed the doctor's thoughts, 'they look rather similar, don't they?'

'Very.' Dr Macmillan agreed, 'if I had names, ages I might even say twins or at least sisters.'

'Exactly, but you didn't put that on your report.' Phryne folded her arms and stared at her.

'Not for me to make assumptions, darling,' Mac noted, 'I can offer an opinion, but without the rest of the information, it is only conjecture.'

'Right, well I'll ask Hugh if there have been any missing sisters reported.' She leant over and kissed Mac's cheek, 'I shall see you soon.'

'About that,' Mac caught her hand, 'I can do a check up on you on Saturday, if you're free.'

'Saturday?' Phryne tipped her head to one side.

'Only for you darling,' Mac smiled, 'unless you want to join the usual clinic?'

'Saturday will be perfect,' Phryne saw she was trying to help her, 'not too early, though.

'Ten?'

'Ten.'

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Jack was standing talking to Hugh and Inspector Wilson at the place where the two girls had been found. He knew she was there from the sound of the Hispano and the clicking of her heels, the faint waft of her perfume, Chanel, if he remembered the bottle she had lifted that morning.

'Hello, Inspector.' She smiled, 'Hugh.'

'Miss Fisher,' Jack smiled, 'this is Inspector Wilson.'

'Mr Wilson,' she held out her hand which he shook, not too firmly. In the seconds she had seen him she could see he was nervous about being in the presence of Detective Inspector Robinson, whose remarkable clear up rate was fast becoming legendary in the State of Victoria. He was taller than Jack, slender, almost thin, blue-green eyes, neatly trimmed moustache, light brown hair that showed from beneath his fedora, which didn't suit him half as much as Jack's did him. Jack had no competition there!

'Miss Fisher is retained as a consultant on some of our cases,' Jack informed him.

'Right,' he muttered uncertainly.

Phryne smiled graciously. 'I've been to the morgue, Jack,' she turned to her husband, 'the girls are rather similar looking, Dr MacMillan isn't sure but they could be sisters, even twins.' She passed on the information while looking round the damp and dismal corner of the dock. Any blood had been washed away, the crates had been taken by whoever had bought the pottery; apparently destined to grace the tables of some small restaurants; and business had returned to normal.

'When we get back to the station, Collins,' Jack turned to the Senior Constable, 'check for any missing persons reports, specifically sisters.'

'Sir.' Hugh nodded, making a note in his little book and blushing, he should have thought of that before. Phryne noticed and gave him an encouraging smile, he'd done extra work by going to see Mac, and it wasn't his fault.

'Describe the scene to me, Wilson.' Jack waved his hand over the area and stood back.

'Well,' he thought for a moment, 'there were crates stacked here,' he moved his hand in an arc to his left, 'which hid the bodies. They lay here,' he stepped into the space behind where the crates would be, and described a curved for one body and a straight line for the other, 'heads away from the crates. They were covered with tarpaulins.'

'Blood?' Phryne asked stepping around imaginary corpses.

'Seeping out from under the tarps,' Hugh supplied, 'and beginning to dry.'

'So they hadn't been dead long?' Jack shoved his hands in his coat pocket, thinking. 'The murderers had to be still here when they were found.'

'Weapon?' Phryne looked at Wilson.

'None found.' He looked at Jack while answering her question, which she found rather rude.

'Mac said it was a short bladed knife, double edged.' Phryne continued, 'there was bruising round the entry point, oval in shape, probably from the handle. She said that it would match something like a trench knife.'

'How would she know?' Wilson felt that women shouldn't know such things, even if they were doctors. For a young man he was remarkably old fashioned in his view of women. He again addressed Jack.

'Experience, knowledge of her subject, and conjecture.' Phryne was beginning to get irritated.

'So possibly a soldier.' Jack mused, she would need placating later, he'd find a way. 'Quite a lot of those who served work on the docks.' He noted.

Phryne was wandering over to the wall. She had noticed the mortar between some bricks looked different. She wiped a finger over a tiny gap, wondering if Dot would be able to get the stain out of her new tan kid gloves, but if Wilson carried on ignoring her, when he had been told she was a consultant, there would be blood to remove too! The brick moved very slightly. She stood with her back to the men and reached under her skirt to remove her dagger from her garter, and used it to ease the brick out, before pulling it and dropping it on the floor. Her glove was almost ruined. Jack was by her side in an instant, thinking she had hurt herself. Not Phryne Fisher, she had just found the murder weapon and indeed it was a trench knife, still covered in, now dried, blood. She picked it up by putting her dagger through a loop in the knuckle duster handle and held it up, triumphantly, it had to be said. Jack grinned.

'Well, well, Miss Fisher,' he held out a envelope, 'seems the weapon was here all along.' She dropped it in. 'Not a very good search, Wilson, was it?' He looked over at the younger man who was staring at the floor. Hugh looked embarrassed, but Wilson had rushed through the scene originally and Hugh hadn't thought to look at the wall at the time.

'How are we going to find the owner?' Hugh asked, so many men worked at the docks.

'Question every one,' Jack snapped, 'I want their names, ages, service history, where they were, family, mother's maiden name if it helps.' This last was just to finish off the list, he didn't mean it, what he meant was he wanted a thorough questioning, no matter how long it took.

'We've already done that, sir.' Wilson pointed out.

'Then do it again, and do it properly!' Jack looked at him, how did he get to be an Inspector? 'Somebody killed these girls and I want to know who.'

Phryne watched him, he was back doing what he did best, but it was a shame he had to come and sort out a junior officer's mess. He didn't like incompetence. Perhaps this Wilson had not earned his promotion the way Hugh earned his, perhaps he had oiled the wheels of the police department. She might look into that.

'Thank you, Miss Fisher,' he smiled, 'invaluable as always.'

'Inspector,' she inclined her head with a small smile. 'Now, I don't know about you, Jack, but I could do with a good strong cup of tea, and I bet some of these little places round here do just that.'

'You know, I believe they may do,' He offered her his arm, 'they may just know our two victims too.'

'Indeed.'

They left Hugh and Wilson to start rounding up the dock workers and arrange for them to be interviewed down at the station.

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Three pie carts and four small cafe's, and a couple of rather unsavoury lavatories; well, after all that tea; later, they finally had names for the girls. They were Susan and Sarah Ames, they ran a small florist's on Bourke's Street. They were seen regularly buying flowers for the shop early each morning. That gave them a time of day to work with, names made it easier and so they headed to the shop, now left unattended for a week.

Phryne pulled up the Hispano in front of 'Ames' Flowers' and looked at the small shop. They had obviously tried to make it into something more attractive than the surrounding places. The door was painted a pleasing cornflower blue as were the window frames. The windows were clean, the step had been scrubbed and the door handle polished. It shone like a little jewel in the middle of a tray of tarnished silver. Phryne found her heart suddenly drop.

'Such a sweet shop,' she murmured, 'they've clearly tried very hard to make something of the place.'

'Mm...' Jack mused.

With the use of Phryne's trusty lock pick they managed to gain entry to the small emporium. As they went in, to the right was a small counter, painted the same colour as the front, to the left, shelves with baskets of all shapes and sizes, pots, pot plants, and houseplant tools.

Under the counter was a wooden coin tray with some loose change in; wrapping paper and ribbon, in various colours and widths.

There were some stairs behind said counter that Phryne clipped up to see what they would possibly keep up there.

'Jack!' she leant over the banister, 'Jack! Up here!'

'Phryne!' He called back, not exasperated as such, but Phryne was doing what she had a tendency to do, wandering off. He took the stairs two at a time arriving at the top to see his wife standing in what appeared to be a small self contained flat. Very small. He stood next to her and surveyed the surroundings; the room was furnished with a couch and a chair, a small table with two dining chairs stood by a window to the right of the stairs, against the back was a stove, sink and kitchen cupboards, partitioned from the main part of the room by a counter. Over on the opposite side was a curtain drawn open to reveal two small beds, a dressing table on which sat a washbowl and jug, and a wardrobe. This was where Susan and Sarah lived.

'This must have been their whole life.' She took his hand in hers. 'Everything they needed and nothing they didn't, I suppose.' She said softly and sadly. It took her back to her days in Collingwood, but this was so sweet, so tidy and clean, the beds were neatly made, there were no dirty pots on the side, no stockings hanging around or clothes in piles on the floor. In a way they had more than she had had in her childhood.

Searching the small flat they found a drawer under the kitchen counter with papers in it. They spread them on the small table and started to put each piece in a pile, family, shop and personal letters. The shop pile was the easiest to sort out, mainly receipts and bills. It was the family pile that was the interesting one and deserved more.

'Jack,' Phryne reached over and took his hand, 'I'm going to take these home, I need food, remember I'm feeding two now.' She grinned cheekily and smoothed her hand over her stomach.

'Phryne, those are evidence.' He put his hand on the pile, 'they should go to the station, with me.'

She put her hand on his, 'I'm sure they will, darling,' she blinked mischievously, 'just the long way round.' She tucked the personal papers and letters in her bag.

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Phryne dropped him off at City South, he said he'd had enough tea and couldn't envisage eating anything at the moment. He was going to start the interviews and supervise Wilson, which he didn't think he should be doing.

Meanwhile, she thought Dot would be able to help her with the girls personal papers. She determined she would eat first, as her stomach was now protesting wildly that she hadn't eaten since breakfast and it was beginning to make her feel a little nauseous. She thought she might have to resort to keeping biscuits in the car.

'Mr Butler!' She called as she entered the hall, 'Dot!'

Dot appeared smiling, 'Miss?'

'Work, Dot.' Phryne grinned, 'but first I must eat, I am famished.'

'Very well, Miss,' Dot took her coat and they headed into the dining room where Mr Butler, having heard his mistress enter, was laying out a veritable feast of sandwiches, quiche, salads, bread, cold meats and fruit, along with a large jug of iced water and one of fruit juice.

'Mr B,' Phryne laughed, 'you are a saint!' She sat down and began to fill her plate like a small child at a party.

Dot filled her glass with water and helped herself to a more modest amount of food.

'Slow down, Miss.' She said quietly, 'it won't go away, and you'll get indigestion.'

'Rubbish,' Phryne swallowed a mouthful of quiche, 'I never get indigestion.'

'You've never been pregnant before.' Dot rightly pointed out, 'my mother always got indigestion when she was expecting.'

'Ok,' Phryne took a gulp of water, and slowed down obediently. It made sense, she never had seasickness until she found herself in this condition, either. 'Now,' she pulled the papers and letters out onto the table, our task is to build a story round the two girls who were murdered at the docks. These are their family documents and letters Jack and I found at their home.'

'So, where was their home, how did you find out all this stuff so quickly?' Dot spread the papers out, 'I mean, Hugh said Inspector Wilson seemed to have come to a dead end. Sorry, bad choice of words.'

'Hugh needs to have the courage of his convictions, he went to see Mac about the autopsies, which was good,' Phryne smiled, 'I think Wilson held him back or more would have been found. Anyway, the weapon, a trench knife, was hidden behind a brick in the wall, relentless investigation of pie carts and small cafes at the docks got us names and a place of work, which also turned out to be their home. Simple, really.' Phryne reached for a pear.

'Hugh tried, Miss,' Dot sipped her fruit juice, 'honestly. He got really frustrated about the Inspector, said he didn't know how he'd got to be an Inspector, he seemed all at sea. Burglaries were easy, Hugh and the men saw to them but this murder, he even said he wished you were there.'

'Bless him,' Phryne smiled and touched her arm, 'nice to know I was missed.'

'You were, Miss.' Dot said simply.

Phryne sat back and wiped the pear juice from her fingers, sighing contentedly. Mr Butler appeared silently at her elbow,

'Thank you, Mr B,' she looked up at his impassive face, 'that hit the spot.'

He nodded and smiled slightly, a smile that broadened as he headed to the kitchen with the empty and near empty plates.

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'Well, Dot,' Phryne put two certificates to one side, 'not twins but sisters very close in age.'

'Here's a letter from a brother asking for help with a debt.' Dot didn't like reading other people's letters but Miss Fisher had said it might help them discover why they died and who killed them.

Phryne read it, sensing the urgency with which it was written. The address was Dandenong, so they could always go and find Stanley Ames, in fact it might be a good idea.

'There's one here, Miss,' Dot picked up another on, this time from their mother, urging them not to give Stanley the money as he would only go and gamble it away. 'Why wasn't any of this found?'

'Because somebody got promoted too quick.' Phryne snapped, 'and their family probably have no idea of their loss.' She stood up and picked up the letters and birth certificates. 'To City South I think Dot, dear.' They left the room and were soon heading towards the station with the evidence that could have cleared up this case in a matter of days.

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Several dock workers were leaving the station as Miss Fisher and Dot arrived.

'Hello, Hugh.' She wafted by on a cloud of Chanel and audacity, smiling back at him as she opened the door to Jack's office. 'Inspector.' She planted herself down in the chair opposite him, pointedly ignoring Wilson, 'think I might have something for you.'

'Miss Fisher,' Jack tried to hide the smirk, 'I hope so, we're getting nowhere with the dock workers.'

'Oh, I think you can forget about them, dear Inspector,' she raised her eyebrows, 'I don't think it has anything to do with them.'

'Sir.' Wilson tried to interrupt.

'How do you come to that conclusion, Miss Fisher?' Jack ignored the younger man.

'These letters,' she handed him the letters and certificates, 'apparently they have a brother who has gambling debts and he has been asking for help. My guess is that they said no, as their mother;' she held up one letter; 'asked them to. He came over to find them. quarrelled, hit them, they did have marks to their cheeks, stabbed them then made off with the money they would have had to purchase stock for the shop that day.'

Jack read the letters as Phryne gave her analysis of the situation, it seemed so plausible he thought it was too simple, but, he agreed they should go out to Dandenong to see the mother and at least inform her of the loss of her daughters, to whom she seemed close, if the letters were anything to go by, and see if they could find brother Stanley.

Jack stood up and grabbed his coat and hat,

'Coming, Miss Fisher?' He opened the door for her,

'Jack, I thought you'd never ask.' She swished out of the room, 'my car, Inspector.'

'Er no, thank you,' Jack smiled, 'I don't think collecting murder suspects in your car is quite the thing, you can follow us.'

'As you wish.' She steeled herself for a limited speed drive to Dandenong, Dot heaved a sigh of relief.

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'Sir,' Wilson sat in the passenger seat as Jack drove out of the centre of the city, 'why is Miss Fisher coming with us?'

'Because, Wilson,' Jack eased the accelerator down a little more, 'Miss Fisher has probably solved the crime in hours, whereas you have made no headway in over a week, and it is a courtesy. It also helps to have a female when passing on bad news.'

Hugh sat in the back trying not to smile. He was so glad Detective Inspector Robinson was back, and Miss Fisher, of course.

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'Come on, Jack.' Phryne muttered behind him, 'you can go faster than that.'

'I think he's doing the limit, Miss.' Dot whispered.

'Huh!' Phryne sniffed back.

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Mrs Ames lived in a small bungalow, in an anonymous street. The building was clean and well cared for with a square of neatly cut lawn at the front.

The door was opened by a small, older version of Sarah and Susan Ames. She smiled slightly at the group before her, the young constable, two plain clothed officers, a glamorous young woman and another, quieter girl, in sober beige.

'Mrs Ames?' Jack asked, quietly. Phryne always thought his voice was like warm melted chocolate when he spoke to parents at times like these.

'Yes.'

'I'm Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, my colleagues and Miss Fisher and Mrs Collins.' He held out his hand, 'may we come in?'

'It's about my girls, isn't it?' She stood aside to let them file in, and showed them to the small, slightly shabby living room.

'Mrs Ames...' Jack hated this job. Dot headed further into the house to find the kitchen and make the woman some tea. 'Your daughters, I'm sorry, they were found just over a week ago.'

Phryne guided her to the couch.

'How?' Mrs Ames gulped, 'where?'

'At the docks, they must have been getting flowers for the shop.' Jack waited while Dot set a cup and saucer down, 'they were both stabbed.'

She put her hand to her mouth, her eyes filled with tears.

'Mrs Ames,' Phryne asked gently, 'where is your son?'

'Him!' she snorted, 'probably playing cards in the pub, useless lump.' She looked up at Phryne, 'you think he did it, don't you?'

'We have to explore all avenues.' Jack answered, 'but he tried to persuade them to give him money to cover debts.'

'We found letters,' Phryne clarified.

'I told them not to give him any money.' she straightened. 'He would have bled them dry. They were doing so well.' She added softly.

'Which pub?' Jack asked, best get it over with.

'The Bull.' She grunted, 'It's on Bruce Street.'

'Thank you.' He put his hat back on his head.

'Shall I stay, for a while, Miss.' Dot looked at her mistress.

'I think that would be very nice of you Dot,' Phryne agreed, 'I'll pick you up when we've seen Stanley.' Dot would probably get more information than they would, just by being her sweet self.

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Stanley Ames threw his cards down in disgust. He'd lost most of what he had taken from the lifeless bodies of his sisters over the days since they had died. All he was left with was a few shillings and two matching silver crucifixes that his sisters had worn since the day they were baptised. He looked at the money and the jewellery and decided he'd pawn the necklaces later, for now he'd play another hand.

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Jack surveyed the outside of the pub, he didn't want to take Phryne into such an establishment though he didn't doubt she could hold her own. He entered with Wilson, as they were out of uniform and asked Hugh and Phryne to wait and watch for him running out. The inside was quiet, dark and grubby. Two or three men sat at the bar, drinking beer in quiet companionship, they didn't bother when two strangers headed to the bar and looked around. The card game was going on in a corner, almost out of sight. Jack caught Wilson's sleeve and nodded in the direction of the group of five men sitting round the table and the sound of coins being dropped as stakes were increased. They strolled, or rather Jack did, Wilson was less subtle and therefore disturbed the players. Ames shifted his gaze to the sound of footsteps and looked from the shiny shoes of Wilson up his sharply pressed trousers, over his waistcoat showing though his open coat and up to his thin face.

'Stanley Ames?' Jack stood in his way as the man started to stand up. 'Detective Inspector Robinson, City South, I'd like to speak to you, about your sisters.'

Ames barrelled his way through Jack, knocking him to the floor, and shot straight through the door as Wilson stood aside. As he hit the open air he also hit the floor as he tripped over Phryne's elegantly shod foot.

'Oh, I am sorry.' She gasped, 'are you alright? Perhaps, Senior Constable Collins, you could help this gentleman up?' She smiled her most disarming smile.

Hugh dutifully helped Ames up, keeping a tight grip on his elbow.

'Have I hurt, you?' Phryne appeared most concerned which served to make Hugh almost laugh, Miss Fisher/Mrs Robinson was a great actress, he thought, as she dusted down the man's jacket just as Jack came out.

'Oh, Inspector Robinson,' she gasped, 'I seem to have tripped this gentleman up, I do hope I won't be in trouble.' She gave him her wide eyed and innocent look.

'Miss Fisher,' Jack smiled and touched her arm, 'I'm sure he's fine, but we'll take him downtown to check. I'm sure you will not be in trouble.'

'Thank goodness.' She breathed. 'Well, I'd best go and pick up my companion, I'll pop by the station later and see he's alright, shall I?'

'I'm sure that won't be necessary, I shall call on you later and let you know if there is anything more to be done.' Wilson watched this play unfold before his eyes, what was it with these two?

'I look forward to seeing you.' She help out her hand, which Jack took and raised to his lips, looking up her arm and into her lovely eyes. He winked.

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It didn't take long for Ames to admit he had approached his sisters and tried to get them to give him money to pay off his debts. They'd refused, told him to get a job and arrange to pay back the money himself. He had pushed them, saying it wasn't his fault he didn't have work, he was injured in the war.

'I'm sorry to hear that,' Jack sympathised, 'may I ask how, having been there myself.'

'I was shot, here,' he pointed to his calf.

None of the officers had noticed a limp or any problem with his walking, and he had made a run for it.

'Hmm...' Jack tightened his lips together, 'still I think you could have found some gainful employment. Living off the earnings of your sisters doesn't seem right to me.'

'It's been hard.'

'For all of us.' Jack began to get angry, 'but most of us, when we can, get on with it! There are men in a much worse condition than you who have found work, and others who have suffered more because of what they have been through. You, Ames,' Jack stood up, 'are lazy, greedy, a waste of my time. I would have liked to know your sisters, because from what I saw of their home and shop they were working hard, with limited resources and living well within their means.'

'But...'

But nothing,' Jack leant on the table, 'you killed them, because they were forcing you to stand on your own two feet, and then you tried to hide the weapon and took all they had, including, I notice, their necklaces!' He turned to Hugh, 'Collins take this excuse for a human being to the cells and prepare him for his trial.'

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Paperwork signed, confession obtained, Jack handed Hugh the file and gathered his coat and trademark fedora and headed out to catch the tram home. He stood on the step of the station and took a deep breath of the evening air. Wilson came up and stood beside him.

'Sorry, sir.' He muttered, 'I messed that one up.'

'Listen to your men, Wilson,' Jack stared ahead, 'they do most of the work, and they usually know the streets.'

'Can I give you a lift anywhere?'

'No, thank you.' Jack pulled his coat on, 'I shall catch the tram.'

'Sir?'

'Hm..?'

'Miss Fisher,' Wilson turned to look at the senior officer, 'does she get a fee, for her consultancy?'

'I am just going to sort that out with her, now.' Though Jack wouldn't like to refer to it as a fee, the reward he was planning for his wife that evening.

'Ri i i ght.' Wilson drew the word out. 'Well, good night, sir.'

'Good night, Wilson.'

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Jack smiled as he walked towards the house, there was his car, parked neatly in front of the gate, while the Hispano was at the side of the house. Good, he wouldn't need to take the tram tomorrow. Looking at the house he could see the light was on in the parlour and a shape on the window seat looked remarkably like his wife in her customary position.

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She saw the familiar shape of Jack and his fedora walking towards the house. She stood up and stretched, then padded bare foot to the front door, to wait and greet him as a good wife should, or her version of a good wife, anyway.

He opened the door to see her standing there, smiling sweetly, which immediately put some dangerous thoughts into his head.

'Good evening, Inspector,' she purred, 'hard day?' She lifted the hat off his head and felt his arms encircle her.

'It's getting better,' he nuzzled under her ear.

'Shall I run you a bath, darling,' she hummed, pushing his coat off and, reaching to one side without breaking contact, hung it on a hook.

'That sounds wonderful.'

Mr Butler, on going to take the Inspector's coat stopped in the doorway to the dining room and mentally calculated how much longer he would have to wait before serving dinner. He turned and headed back to the kitchen to turn the oven down on the slow roast lamb.

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Phryne filled bath and added some pine scented salts to relax him. It was her turn to scrub his back, she reckoned, after that well...

Jack hung his suit up and pulled off his tie, draping it over the chair before she came to him and started to undo his shirt buttons. He bent and kissed her, softly, then more deeply as his fingers found the tiny buttons at the back of her blouse. Gently and seductively they removed articles of clothing, kissing and nipping at each other until they both stood naked in the bedroom. She took his hand and led him to the bathroom, stepping elegantly into the tub. She stood where he would normally sit and waited for him to sit in her place, then sat behind him, her legs either side of his hips.

She started to massage his shoulders with the warm scented water, pushing her thumbs into the knotted muscles at the base of his neck. He rolled his head and sighed. She ran her hands down either side of his spine, pushing her thumbs against the ridges of his vertebrae and then smoothed her palms over his bum. Her hands moved round to the front, slipping between his legs, stroking him, feeling him become aroused and hard.

He smiled and slid his hands up her thighs, round behind him and tangled his fingers in her curls, then under just enough to feel her shiver with anticipation. As she began to rock he moved forward and turned round, careful not to spill the water over the edge, she had started to moan and bite her lip. He pushed his legs under her and pulled her over him and onto him. He wrapped his arms around her, sliding his hand up her back and into her hair, pulling her to him, into a gloriously passionate kiss as she set up the rhythm. He bent his head to her breasts and took each one, circling the nipples with his tongue, smiling as her breaths came in short bursts and gulps until she threw her head back and tightened in release, moaning his name as she felt his release.

'Jack,' she sighed, 'oh, Jack.'

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Phryne didn't want to redress fully so put on a pair of pale pink, silk-satin pyjamas and her black embroidered robe. Jack, a little more conservative and mindful of the 'below stairs' talk dressed in a pair of light brown flannels and a brown pullover over a white shirt, and they headed down for a pre-dinner drink.

Mr B had poured Jack a whisky and Phryne a mixed fruit juice cocktail, which she gave her approval to.

They discussed the case over dinner and what he should do with Wilson, as it was no concern of hers!

'Perhaps he should stay and be taught how to investigate crime.' Jack suggested.

'Perhaps.' Phryne took a mouthful of the lamb that had slowly cooked over time.

'He asked if you get a fee,' Jack watched her, 'for your consultancy.'

'Oh, and you said...' she smirked.

'...that I was on the way to sort that out with you.' He waited for her reaction.

'Would you like a receipt, Inspector.' She purred.

'I doubt I can get it on expenses, Miss Fisher.' He raised his glass and grinned.

The continued eating their meal until their plates were cleaned and cleared. Dessert served, a tarte tatin with whipped cream, Phryne told him about her appointment with Mac.

'Saturday,' she paused, spoon half way to her mouth, 'ten o'clock.'

'Would you like me to come with you?' He searched her face for any sign of worry or discomfort at the thought.

'No, I'll be fine.' she smiled, 'it won't take long.'

'Every step of the way, Phryne,' he reached over and took her hand, 'I said I'd be with you every step of the way, and that does mean appointments with Mac. If you don't want me there, that's ok too, I just want you to know I meant what I said.'

Tears sprang to her eyes. How many other husbands, she wondered, would offer so much with just one phrase?

'Can I let you know?' She smiled, 'I mean I could change my mind, but at the moment...'

'Whatever makes you comfortable, love,' he squeezed her hand, 'I don't want to change you, so if you want to do this yourself...'

'What have I done to deserve you?' She used her napkin to wipe away a tear.

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Saturday dawned cool but bright. Phryne stretched, and looked over at Jack, doing his best to pretend he was still asleep, exhausted after her demands the previous night. He failed, miserably when she ran her toes up his calf, doing things to him that no foot should do. It was very early for her to wake, especially at the weekend when all she had to do was prepare for an appointment with Dr Macmillan at ten o'clock. She still hadn't decided if she wanted him to be with her or not, but he was quite prepared for her to say so at the very last moment.

He pulled her back to him and enveloped her in his arms, kissing her forehead. They lay like that for a while, in complete silence, just the sound of the ticking clock and their breathing, though each would say the sound of their hearts beating as one was almost deafening.

Jack smiled over the top of her head, it wasn't unusual, these days, for her to just cuddle in to him with no demands, but on a Saturday morning with no need to rise immediately... He surmised she was deep in thought when she heaved a sigh.

'Sweetheart?'

'Hm?'

He stroked her shoulder, drawing little circles on the soft skin, making her shiver and hum her appreciation. He had been most attentive last night, drawing out their lovemaking, teasing and tempting her until she had begged for him to take her, and had had done, thoroughly. She rolled the shoulder and wriggled against him spreading a small hand over his chest.

Sometime later she was lying over him breathing a little harder than she had been and smiling.

'I'd better start to get ready.' She murmured, 'I think I'll have a bath first.'

'My turn to run it for you.' He reached down and patted her bottom, she rolled off him and lay on her side watching him rise and slip his robe on before going into the bathroom. She heard the water splash into the bath and then the toilet flush, then the scent of jasmine floated through, perfect, she thought.

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There was no point in Jack staying in bed so he showered when she had finished in the bathroom and joined her for breakfast.

'You're coming, whether I want you to or not, aren't you?' She didn't smile, she sounded peeved, he thought.

'I'm leaving it up to you, love.' He paused, 'not much fun lying in that bed on my own.' He tried to lighten her mood, worried he was putting pressure on her when all he wanted to do was support her, as he had promised to do.

A glimmer of a smile played around her lips, 'Ok,' she sighed, 'you can come with me, as far as the door.' She pushed her plate away, suddenly having lost her appetite, but not because of him. 'I'll make my decision there.'

He pushed his chair back and held out his hand to her. 'Come here.'

She sat on his knee and put her arms round his neck. Leaning her forehead against his she sighed, 'Sorry.'

'Nothing to be sorry for.' He squeezed her just a little tighter, 'uncharted territory, love, for both of us.'

'Why?' She pulled back and looked at him, 'why didn't you and Rosie..?'

'Don't know.' He answered honestly, not in the least upset by the question, 'she blamed my working hours, I said it was fate, she wouldn't see a doctor. In the end I suppose we gave up.' He'd never talked about his sex life with Rosie with her, but it didn't seem odd doing so now, 'she wasn't over enthusiastic in the first place, a means to an end. Still, I don't know what her reaction will be when she finds out.'

'Does it bother you?' As far as Phryne knew Rosie didn't even know Jack had remarried, much less who was his new wife, though she'd probably be able to guess.

'Not really.' He admitted, 'we'd grown apart, not just because of that, but the war changes a man, and a woman,' he looked at her, 'we all have scars.'

She kissed him, deliberately, 'Come on, let's go and see what Dr Macmillan has to say about me.' She slipped off his knee.

'Sure?'

'Sure.'

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She pulled the Hispano Suiza up outside the Women's Hospital and took a deep breath. She was beginning to feel nervous and excited in equal measure.

Jack got out and went to open the door for her. As he took her hand, his firm grip, not too tight, just strong, gave her confidence to face Mac, a confidence she didn't realise had begun to desert her.

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The hospital was quiet as they strolled arm in arm to Mac's office, which was eerie.

'Come in.' Mac's voice was light and welcoming and she smiled as they entered her office. She stood up and greeted her old friend with a kiss to her cheek. She shook hands with Jack and studied his face. He seemed calm, unconcerned. 'Please, sit down. It's nice to see you Inspector, not many husbands are that interested in women's health.'

'Phryne is my wife, doctor,' Jack waited until Phryne was seated before taking the chair next to her, 'she's carrying my child, why wouldn't I be interested?'

A remarkable man, Mac thought and turned to Phryne.

'Now, my dear girl,' she smiled, 'all I'm going to do today is record your weight, take a blood sample and have you provide me with a urine sample. Then a quick examination and any questions. Happy?'

'I think so.' Phryne sighed. She wondered if her mother had gone through this.

Mac asked her to removed her coat and step onto the scales. She nodded her approval. She took a vial of blood, sent her to the cubicle to provide the sample and checked her blood pressure.

'Well, that all seems perfectly acceptable,' Mac smiled at her, 'Now, Inspector, even very interested husbands step out for the next part, so, off you go.' She waved him off to wait outside while she examined Phryne on the couch.

'Well, Phryne,' Mac removed her gloves and smiled, 'everything seems to be ok, there, you are showing enough to match how far on you say you are.'

'I'm confident I am now ten weeks, Mac.' Phryne sat up and prepared to pull her knickers back on. 'I know when it happened.'

'I don't doubt it, dear girl.' Mac waited for her to re dress then helped her down from the couch.

'Will you do a full exam every time Mac?' Phryne rather hoped not, she found it weirdly embarrassing, given Mac was such a close friend.

'Only if I have concerns, and never if you don't want me to.' Mac smiled and let Jack back in. 'Now, do you have any questions?'

'Is there anything I shouldn't do?' Phryne raised her eyebrows.

'Well, street brawling is out,' Mac grinned, 'perhaps take a little more care when you are apprehending the criminal underworld of this fine city.'

'What about eating?'

'Anything you want, but in moderation.' Mac sat back, 'have you noticed any changes in your appetite?'

Mrs Robinson blushed slightly, thinking of the wrong type of appetite!

'She eats more light dishes...' Jack saw what Phryne was thinking.

'...and more often,' Phryne smiled, 'I get hungry mid morning and if I don't eat I can get a little nauseous.'

'Any morning sickness?' Mac realised this hadn't cropped up.

'Not really.' The mother to be shook her head, 'I was sick after flying from Armathwaite to Carlisle, which is why we sailed. I had a bout of seasickness due to rough sea, which is unusual. A friend suggested ginger tea and biscuits, which seemed to do the trick. Apart from that, nothing.'

'Lucky you.' The doctor smiled. 'Well, I can't see any reason why you should not continue to have a happy and healthy pregnancy so I will schedule another appointment for a month from now, on a Saturday.' Mac looked in her diary. 'In the meantime any problems, anything you want to talk about, you know where I am.'

'Thank you, Mac.' Phryne started to get out of the chair.

'Phryne we need to talk about booking you in.' Mac said softly, she too had seen her friend had been spooked about the mention of hospital.

'Not yet, Mac.' Phryne bit her lip, 'I'd like to wait a little longer.'

'Very well,' Dr Macmillan was surprised at her reaction.

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Phryne didn't quite run out of the hospital but Jack thought she was damn near it. There was something really odd about her reactions to any mention of her being in hospital.

She gripped the steering wheel of the car as she drove them back to Wardlow. Her face was set firm, her mouth in a straight line, Jack was sure she was holding back tears, but why?

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She flew up the stairs and into the bedroom slamming the door behind her. Mr Butler looked a Jack, he looked back and hung his coat up.

'Tea, Mr Butler,' Jack said quietly, 'just leave a tray outside the room, please.'

Mr Butler nodded and headed to the kitchen.

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Phryne stood in the bedroom, clenching and unclenching her fists, willing herself not to cry over the mere mention of hospital. She was angry at herself for not being able to tell Mac what she really wanted.

Jack opened the door slowly, ready to duck should some object come flying towards him. She hadn't really lost her temper since they had become a couple, she had become irritated, annoyed on occasion but hadn't really had a proper outburst for some time. He looked at her, standing with her back to him, erect, head held high. Quietly, he closed the door and went to put his arms around her. That was enough, Phryne turned round and folded, sobbing against his chest. He wrapped his arms round her and stroked her head,

'It's alright, darling,' he murmured, 'whatever it is, we can work through it.'

'I can't,' she hiccupped. 'Please, Jack, don't make me.' The gulping sobs continued and he ran his hand soothingly down her back.

'Hospital?'

She nodded, 'I can't go into a hospital, not as a patient.' She lifted her head and looked at him. Red rimmed eyes, runny nose, 'I can visit, I've even been at a birth, but I can't do that myself, not there.'

Jack kissed her forehead and took his handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the tears and snot, which was most unbecoming on a grown woman.

'I want to have the baby here.' She sniffed, 'in our house, on our bed, please.'

Jack had no medical knowledge save that which got him through life; that stab wounds and gunshot wounds bled, a lot sometimes, head injuries caused all sorts of changes and hurt and if someone cut of your air supply you were bound to die. Childbirth did not come into his world, usually. However, he had a sister and she had two children and they had been born at home.

'If that's what you want, then I suppose we need to tell Mac.' He smiled.

'You don't mind?' She thought he would expect her to go into hospital, be surrounded by faceless and nameless white coats and go through interminable pain without her beloved husband by her side, as he had promised her would be.

'You're the one doing the hard work, love.' He smiled, 'and at least I might be able to hold your hand, here.'

'Thank you.' She lifted her face and kissed his lips, softly.

'Now, how about some tea, and a lie down?' He helped her out of her coat and picked up the tray, to which Mr Butler had added some biscuits and set it down on the end of the bed.

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He pulled a light cover over her as she slept, then changed out of his suit, somewhat messy with her make-up, tears and all that she had rubbed off her face on his waistcoat and shirt. Taking the tea tray downstairs he told Mr Butler that Phryne was resting and headed into the parlour to read.

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I think when one has seen the things Phryne saw in the war that perhaps being a patient in a hospital would be frightening. Phryne has her demons, not just Janey and some on these may come out in this story.

Her pregnancy may well be like mine were, I didn't have morning sickness either!


	13. Chapter 13

Phryne turned over and opened her eyes. She lay for a few moments chiding herself for being so silly about the hospital, things had changed since she had driven ambulances, visited her mother after a 'fall' or even been admitted herself after a particularly cruel night with Rene; but still she hated the thought if having her baby in a cold, sterile environment. He, or she, had been conceived in a moment of passion, through a love she had never before experienced, with a man who had stolen her very soul. No, her baby would be born in the bed she was loved in, by Jack, the love of her life. God, she was getting soppy!

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Mr Butler heard the familiar sound of Mrs Robinson coming down the stairs. She would be needing lunch, he thought and headed out to the hall to speak to her.

'Thank you, Mr B,' she smiled, 'that would be lovely.'

'The Inspector is in the parlour, Miss.' He turned and headed to the kitchen to put out a light lunch which seemed to be more than acceptable to Mrs Robinson in her current state. She appeared to be rather fond of fruit, pears in particular.

Phryne pushed the door to the parlour opened and smiled. Jack was reading the paper, something he rarely got the chance to do at leisure, just snatching stories of interest as he ate breakfast or that Hugh or herself drew his attention to. He looked up and smiled.

'Phryne,' He stood and held out his hand, 'how are you feeling?' His voice was soft and gentle, pulling her into his arms.

'Better, thank you.' She put her head against his chest, 'sorry for being silly.'

'Why would I think you are being silly?' He teased, 'I personally do not relish the thought of a stay in hospital, they smell of disinfectant and efficiency.'

She giggled, 'What does 'efficiency' smell like?'

'Hospitals.' He kissed her head. 'If you want to give birth at the bottom of the garden who are me and Mac to argue.'

'You, maybe not, Mac, well...'

'Let's worry about that later,' he took her hand, 'now I suspect you need to eat, because I do.'

Mindful of what Dot had said the previous day she ate slower, not as if it was her last meal and someone was going to take it away before she finished.

'When we've eaten how about a stroll, perhaps along the shore or to the Botanical Gardens?' Jack watched her think, 'unless there is something else you have to do.'

'I was going to look at which room to use as a dressing room and then perhaps even think of one for a nursery,' she smiled, 'but a stroll along the shore sounds infinitely more relaxing.'

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The breeze off the ocean was cool on such a warm day as they strolled hand in hand, Phryne with her shoes in her other hand. Jack knew she found it calming, being on the shore and wondered, hoped even, she would open up about her almost pathological fear of being a patient in a hospital. She said she had been present at a birth but not when or where. It wouldn't surprise him if she had been helping a friend or even seeing an unmarried mother cared for, endless possibilities, Phryne all over, he thought. He wouldn't push her, she would come to tell him in her own time.

'Have you written to your mother, yet?' He thought the longer she delayed over this the harder it would become, if not impossible.

'I keep trying,' she sighed and leant her head against his upper arm, 'but each time I set pen to paper it goes wrong. I get angry about the telegram and it spills out onto the page.'

He pulled her onto a nearby bench seat. 'Want me to help?' He put his arm round her, 'it doesn't have to be a long letter.'

'No, I'll do it tonight,' she tipped her head and kissed him.

They sat quietly for some time, content in each other's company. Phryne had never known this contentment and she wondered how he had brought such peace to her.

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'Dear Mother,

I'm sorry I did not respond to your telegram which I received while on board the ship on the way home.

I'm afraid I found it surprising, that you would think I would joke about such a thing, I'm not that cruel, I hope. Suffice to say Jack and I _were_ married at Gretna Green. I know it isn't the kind of wedding you would have wanted for me, but it was the kind of wedding _I_ wanted if I was going to have one. It was sweet and short.

We used the trip home as our honeymoon, meeting an old friend of Jack's on board and Edward Dunstan and his new wife, Emily. I suppose you remember Edward, you tried to marry me off to him years ago. He's a drunk, mother, poor Emily has to put up with him drinking all day and she was most embarrassed at dinner when he squeezed my leg. Not that he would have done anything, apparently, he doesn't 'perform'. Emily Sandiland was at school with me, but not it my set, which you may be glad about, but, secretly I think Emily wishes she had been. Anyway, they are settling on a cattle farm not far away and we, Emily and I, will stay in touch. I think Emily will make a go of it, not sure about Edward.

So we are back at home, settled in, Jack's back at City South and I'm investigating too. A double murder needed clearing up, the stand in hadn't managed to solve it before we got back so Jack got stuck in, with a little help from yours truly!

Now for the last little bit of news, so I hope you are sitting down, Jack and I are going to make you grandparents. No, I am not joking, I am with child. A huge shock but somehow it seems right. So far no ill effects, hoping it stays that way!

I hope you are well, that things are going right for you and father, and he is not driving you up the wall again. Please take care of yourself.

With love

Phryne and Jack.'

She read through it and found it would do, no spelling mistakes, pleasant and just the news she wanted to convey. It would be sometime before she got a reply so she could now put it to the back of her mind. She folded it and sealed it in an envelope, addressing it clearly and left it for Dot to post for her the following day.

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They spent the next day discussing which rooms could be used for what. Of the spare rooms they had, one was a nice size for a nursery, opposite their room and looking out over the back of the house, it was light and airy. Phryne wasn't sure exactly what they would need above a cot, wardrobe and chest of drawers, she would ask Dot, who was likely to have much more idea than her.

The other rooms were too big to be let over as a dressing room, so she would have to think about that. Perhaps they could move the bedroom around so Dot could enter and lay out clothes without being embarrassed.

'Well, now we've sorted at least a room for the baby, I suppose I'd better phone my mother,' Jack smiled, 'you haven't met her yet, and she has phoned the station twice to get me to take you over to meet her.'

'Honestly, Jack,' she tutted, 'and you go on at me for not replying to my mother. Why don't you invite her over next weekend, you can't go gallivanting over to Sydney after taking so much leave; the commissioner won't stand for it. Jane will be over from school, we can make a weekend of it.'

'Are you sure?'

'Of course I'm sure, I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise, you dolt!' She batted his arm, playfully, 'What are you hiding? Is she an ogre? Does she have three heads? .Or are you just afraid we won't get on?'

'Well, I don't think she's an ogre,' he smiled and pulled her into a hug, 'and I'm pretty sure you two will gang up against me, so if you think it's a good idea, I will phone her later.' He kissed her forehead, 'oh,' he added, 'she only has the one head!'

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Phryne spent the following morning arranging an appointment with her solicitor, it had to be done and the sooner the better. Even if all she did was update her will to include Jack and the baby. She looked at her paperwork for her properties and investments, it made her head spin, and wondered if it was best just to add his name to everything, if that was at all possible. They hadn't discussed it since he had said it was her money and he wasn't laying claim to any of it, he would add some of his salary to a joint bank account they would set up, to take care of the household expenses. His small house they had decided, could be let, perhaps to a police officer with a small family, it did have two bedrooms, and that income could go into his account to do with as he wanted to and add to the household should it become necessary. As long as the bills were paid their money was their own. It was all so easy, if the solicitor would let it be so.

Jack had avoided any conversations with her about the financial side of their life, even though he knew it had to be done, and when the time came for them to visit Mr Martin he gave a resigned sigh.

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Mr Martin was a small birdlike figure with a twinkle in his eye that made Jack think of a little elf from a children's story. He was quick thinking, astute and regarded Miss Fisher as one of his best, most financially astute and easiest clients. When she had telephoned to inform him of her marriage he had started to look through her finances and, knowing how independent she was had put together a plan.

He started by congratulating them on their marriage and impending parenthood.

'Thank you, Mr Martin,' Jack smiled as shook his hand, more at ease than before. His only other experience of a solicitor was when he made his own will on marrying Rosie and that had been a tense and formal time. He realised that will was still in place and he assumed valid so it was the one thing he did need to address. He was a man of simple ideas and said that, should he predecease his wife he wanted everything to be left to her and their child with a bequest to Jane and a smaller one, but still generous, to Hugh and Dot Williams.

Phryne smiled at the thought that he would leave something to his best Senior Constable and family, but they were part of the family, and also to Jane who he took a fatherly interest in.

Phryne's will was a little more detailed, although she left the bulk of her estate to Jack and the baby should she predecease her husband. She too left bequests to the Williams', Mr Butler and the red raggers. She had put a trust fund in place for Jane that the young girl would have access to when she turned twenty one. Mr Martin had tried to persuade her to wait until Jane turned twenty five but Phryne had insisted that her ward was bright and able to manage her funds at that age. The wills dealt with, Phryne's estate now became the subject of discussion. Jack still insisted that he did not want to control any part of it, it was her money that she had invested and earned and he trusted her to carry on dealing with it wisely. He agreed to having the house put into both their names but refused point blank about the investments.

Mr Martin sat back and looked at this proud and stubborn man. Phryne knew he wouldn't budge on this topic and had asked the solicitor to come up with an idea that would leave them safe should she die before him. In the end, hoping it would get past a judge in the event something happened he had drafted a declaration to be signed by Mrs Robinson that, in the event of her demise Jack Robinson was to have full control of the estate to manage the investments for the benefit of their child Jack would also have to sign the document.

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Phryne spent the rest of the week catching up on her cases, the ones that had waited for her return. One in particular intrigued her. A gentleman, by the name of Hubert Grossmann had left his details with Dot while she was away with regard to a painting he had. He would not leave any details but art interested Phryne so she asked him to call at his earliest convenience. She hoped it wasn't a bad reproduction of one of the great masters that had been sold as an original, there was always some gullible person who thought they knew about art and actually knew nothing.

Mr Grossmann duly arrived after lunch on the Wednesday. He was carrying the painting he needed her advice on.

Mr Butler brought tea in for them and closed the parlour door.

'So, Mr Grossmann,' Phryne smiled as she poured, 'how can I be of service to you?'

'I have a painting,' he leaned forward his elbows on his knees and his hands linked together, 'which I will show you, after I have explained my predicament.'

She nodded and waited for him to continue.

'I purchased this painting some years ago, here, in Melbourne, 'he waved his hand to the still wrapped art work. 'It is by a Ballarat artist, a woman, but an interesting piece.'

'Well, we must encourage home grown talent.' Phryne smiled.

'Agreed.' Mr Grossmann nodded, 'but, having decided to sell, it no longer suits the decor, according to my new wife, I have been informed it is a fake.'

'I see.' or rather she didn't, until she saw the painting. 'so, you have put it up for auction? Who told you it was a fake?'

'Yes,' he fiddled with his cup. 'I don't expect a lot for it, a female artist and a, more or less, local one, well, sadly they don't fetch much.' He straightened up, 'But I like it and feel she should be more appreciated. It was a young man, he didn't give his name, just passed me in the auction house while I was having it appraised and said it was a fake, then he disappeared.'

'I would like to see the painting,' she put down her cup and crossed the room to the chair, where the painting had been propped up. She stretched out her hand to it, 'may I?'

'Please.'

She unwrapped the parcel. it was a portrait, about eighteen inches high by one foot wide. It was an almost naive style but Phryne thought it would be representational of the model. The subject was looking out at the observer from in front of a mainly green background with a strip of painted gold down the right hand side, as she looked at it. She had a short eton crop under a black cloche hat, she leant with her arm on something, it was hidden, and wore a burgundy long-sleeved dress, plain, and had a drop pendant round her neck. Phryne picked up the painting and took it to the window, tipping it to see lines and textures. She could just make out a signature. 'Genevieve Etienne', and a date, 1918.

'It's quite amazing,' Phryne breathed, 'the way the eyes watch you, very good.'

'That's what I thought,' Mr Grossmann agreed, 'it has followed me round the dining room since I bought it. To be told it is a fake, well...'

'So, I take it you want me to find out if it is a fake or the real thing?'

'If at all possible.'

Mr Grossmann agreed to leave the painting with Phryne for a week and then she would update him on her findings.

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'Interesting painting, darling,' Jack looked closely at the portrait now sitting on an easel in the parlour. 'I didn't know you were buying again.'

'I'm not.' His wife sauntered through and slipped her hand into his. 'This belongs to a client, a Mr Grossmann. He wanted to sell it but has been told it is a fake.'

'Oh,' he tipped his head to look at it, 'and you? What do you think?'

'I don't know.' She sat on the couch and patted the seat next to her, 'I like it, but I don't know the artist. Apparently she's a Ballarat artist, but the name is French.'

'Does that mean a trip to Ballarat?'

'I don't know, I think the young man who declared it a fake holds the key. He apparently just walked past and made his comment.' She put her head against his shoulder. 'I'll go to the auction house tomorrow, perhaps he will be there.'

He kissed her, gently.

'So, how was your day?' She looked at him, 'nothing too exciting, or you would have called.'

'Got it in one.' Jack accepted the whisky from Mr Butler who had unobtrusively entered with a tray also holding a fruit cocktail drink for Mrs Robinson. 'Just a couple of traffic offences and a drunk out of towner.'

'A quiet day, who was the blow-in?' She sipped her drink, another of Mr B's amazing concoctions that made her forget she was not drinking an alcoholic cocktail.

'Some young lad, just arrived from England to visit family, apparently.' Jack put his arm round her, 'got drunk after causing a scene at the auction house.'

Phryne sat up, 'The auction house!?'

'Yes?' He turned and looked at her, eyes wide with more than curiosity, 'you think he is the one who declared the painting a fake?'

'Yes, because that is when Mr Grossmann was told the painting was a fake, by a young man who just passed by and left.'

She turned and looked eagerly at him.

'Is he in your cells?' She stood up excited.

'Er, yes.' Jack put his drink down, 'not a coincidence then?'

'Almost certainly not,' She opened the parlour door, 'Mr B!' she called, 'can you hold dinner, we need to pop out for a while?'

Mr Butler appeared at the kitchen door, 'Yes Mrs Robinson, no problem, dinner will keep.'

'Bless you.' She grinned and help out Jack's coat, 'come on slow-coach.'

'Phryne, what...'

'I think this young man holds the key and will solve the case.' She grinned, 'get a move on, Inspector!'

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City South station was quiet, even the drunks in the cells had fallen asleep. Jack nodded to the night duty officer and led his wife through to a cell with three drunks in. He pointed to a young man with fair curly hair, the beginnings of a beard and a bruise to his cheek.

'That's him,' he whispered, 'name of Blake, a student of medicine. He's at Edinburgh University but has been home to see his father, in Ballarat.' He motioned an officer to bring Blake out into an Interview Room.

Blake sat in a chair and put his head down on the table. Jack had Phryne sit opposite and stood in the corner. She flicked through the thin file which just gave his name, age and address. She looked at the sorry sight which covered up a good looking man who, she was sure would grow into a handsome doctor one day.

'Lucien,' she read his name from the paper, 'a French name.'

'My mother's idea,' he sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, 'she was French. I miss her.'

'Lucien,' she repeated, 'my name is Phryne Fisher, I'm a private detective. I'm looking into the possible faking of a painting, by Genevieve Etienne. You may have seen it in the auction house.' Her voice was soft and he looked up, she was utterly gorgeous, Lucien appreciated a good looking woman. Monica hadn't been that good looking, pleasant, willing, but nowhere near as beautiful as Phryne Fisher. The copper who had put him in the cell to sleep off his whisky induced anger was standing behind her, protective, he thought. Lucky bugger.

'I saw it, t'aint hers.' He slurred.

'May I ask how you know, you don't look like an art connoisseur, I believe you are studying medicine.'

'Genevieve Etienne died,' Lucien there was a flint like look in his eyes, 'nineteen nineteen.' His head hit the table again.

'You know this how?' Phryne continued her gentle probing, sorry for the man in front of her.

' _She_ was my mother.' Lucien looked up again, tears streaming down his face, 'I miss her.'

Phryne reached over and squeezed his hand, 'I'm sorry,' she murmured. 'But that doesn't explain how you are so sure it is a fake.'

'My mother didn't use gold paint,' Lucien sat up, 'she used gold leaf.'

'I see.' Phryne was intrigued.

'It's a good fake, it's only the lack of gold leaf that gives it away.' He sat up now, looking better for someone listening to him. 'My father won't speak about her to me. We argued so I'm heading back to Edinburgh.'

'When?' Jack stepped forward.

'Tomorrow evening.' Lucien pouted, 'working my passage.'

Phryne looked up at Jack and he nodded, a small nod that told her he knew what she was thinking.

'Right, soon to be, Dr Blake,' She stood up, 'you're coming home with us. I need your help and you need a good feed, bath and sleep.'

'He has a fine to pay, Miss Fisher,' Jack reminded her.

'Ok if I pay it, his fee for helping me with the case?'

Blake looked from one to the other, 'us, Miss Fisher?' This was confusing. Phryne smiled, 'It's alright, Lucien, Jack is my husband, I'm only Miss Fisher when I'm working my own cases.'

'Oh, right.' He began to brighten.

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'Mr Butler!' Phryne called through the house, 'set an extra place, hungry student to feed.'

Lucien stepped into the bright hallway and blinked. Even if he worked all hours god sent as a doctor, he'd never be able to afford something as lovely as this place. Still, he knew how to behave, he was at least well brought up and educated so he didn't feel too out of his social class.

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Lucien sat back, stomach full, feeling better than he had in days. He'd managed to avoid the girl he'd left in Ballarat, but the arguments with his father, a local GP, had all centred about how he was a disappointment to him and would have shamed his mother with his drinking. He looked at the couple at the table who had been so generous to him, they were obviously newly married, she was sparky, intelligent and beautiful, he was steady, like his old mate Matthew Lawson, strong and clearly head over heels in love with his wife.

'Now Lucien,' Phryne started to stand and Jack went to pull the chair out for her, 'let's go and have a proper look at this painting.'

He stood and waited for them to lead him into the parlour. His head was much cleared now, as only lemonade or water had been served at dinner. Perhaps it was a Temperance Household, but, somehow, he didn't think so, nor was it a nod to his drunken behaviour that day. Perhaps Mrs Robinson didn't like wine, she had suggested it for her companions.

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Phryne stood back as Lucien, with her permission, picked up the picture. He held it under a light, tipping it to look at the brushstrokes he remembered so clearly being applied. Then he suddenly turned his attention to the top corner, where the gold painted strip started.

'Hello,' he mused, 'I don't suppose you have a magnifying glass, do you?' Jack left the room and came back swiftly with the glass and handed it to the young man.

Lucien looked closely and sighed, 'Bloody cheek!' he hissed then apologised for cursing, albeit mildly, in front of a lady.

'I was born in Collingwood, Lucien, I've heard worse.' She smiled, 'what is it?'

'There's a little bit of gold leaf, here,' he indicated the corner, 'my guess is whoever had this painting has scraped it off and tried to sell it. It wouldn't be worth much, leaf is so thin, it floats on a warm draught.'

'So,' Phryne went to look closely, 'are you saying this could be one of your mother's paintings after all?'

Lucien wiped his hand over his head, 'Miss Fisher,' he sighed, 'I think it might be.' He looked more closely through the magnifier, ending up at the signature and date. He'd watched Genevieve paint so often and eleven years hadn't dulled the images in his head.

'I'm sorry, I was wrong,' He put down the glass, 'this is one of her paintings.'

Phryne took his hand and looked into his sad, blue eyes. 'What do you want to do?' She asked softly sensing the inner turmoil. 'Mr Grossmann wants to sell it.'

'Oh,' he looked downcast, 'I would love to have it back, but...'

'You're a poor student.' Phryne smiled, 'I like it too.' This was where control over her own money won out, 'I will buy it from Mr Grossmann. When you can afford to buy it off me, for the same price, then I shall sell it to you, and only you.'

'You'd do that, for me?' He sat down, shaking his head, 'Why? You don't know me. I was arrested by your husband for drunken behaviour...'

'Let's just say, I like to make things good, acceptable, right.'

'Miss Fisher, er, Mrs Robinson,' Lucien looked up, fired by her offer, 'I don't know when I'll be able to buy it back, as a doctor...I won't be a rich man.'

'Then I will still keep the painting,' she smiled, 'until you are...and Lucien, I predict good things for you, and I am rarely, if ever wrong, am I darling?'

'Indeed not, Phryne.' Jack had watched the scene play out and he would have done the same, he liked the picture, and she always said he had unimaginative taste.

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Lucien watched Phryne buy the painting off Mr Grossmann for a sum so far beyond his current means he almost fainted. But, he determined that sometime in the future he would buy the painting back at that sum.

He left to catch his ship, a considerably happier man that when he had arrived in Melbourne, off to a life of who knew what, but he was sure it would be interesting, Phryne Fisher/Robinson had shown him, in such a short time, that life was what you made it.

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'I like him,' Phryne said as she watched the young, almost, doctor head up the gangplank. I think he'll go far.'

'Mmm...' Jack mused, there was something about the boy.

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So a tying up of the legal situation of the marriage, some domesticity, and, for those who know Dr Blake a bit of a cross over, set by a student of mine, for those who don't well, just a little case to solve.

Thanks again for all the lovely reviews.


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you for the lovely reviews, it's so nice that you are continuing to enjoy this wander through an alternative view of Jack and Phryne's life together. Teacherspet: I haven't been marathon watching either show, though I did with Miss Fisher over the summer hols while trying to ease my sciatica! I am a Dr Blake fan as well, it's where I cut my fan fic teeth.

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Phryne had not looked forward to Christmas so much for years. True she would not be drinking copious amounts of champagne, but she had her new husband, Jane, the Collins' and the new life currently disrupting her waistline!

Dot had been able to let out the seams in her trousers, up to now, but she wanted something new and fashionable to wear over the season. She headed to Madame Fleuri.

'Miss Fisher, Phryne,' Madame greeted her with open arms. 'My dear so lovely to see you. I thought you had thrown me over for some London fashion house.' They kissed continental style.

'Never, Madame,' Phryne laughed, 'I did worry you may be upset I didn't come to you for my trousseau. However, I did wear your gold gown as my wedding dress.'

'I must admit, it was a shock to hear you had married, a pleasant shock, but...' She stood back and looked her up and down. 'Ah, I see,' she smiled, 'something new for the season, something that will give you room to grow. My dear girl, how marvellous.'

'I don't suppose you can do the same with trousers, can you?' Phryne pouted, 'for everyday wear.'

'Well, a challenge, but I will give it some thought.' Madame mused, 'now let us measure you and look at what the latest styles are.'

There was very little in the way of maternity wear that Phryne would be seen dead in. Most women, in that condition, were expected to hide at home as if ashamed. But, Phryne was not most women, as Madame knew. Eventually she chose some dresses that were loose fitting and some outfits that were a skirt and a loose top that would accommodate her growing bump. The skirt had an ingenious set of laces and inserts that could be let out as time went on.

She left, grateful that Madame could find something to fit her lifestyle but a little miffed that society deemed her condition unacceptable to be on show. Surely it was something that should be celebrated, and that was not something she had ever considered before.

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The car was loaded with Christmas gifts when she finally decided she needed to head home. It was too nice a day to be stuck shopping, a little too warm and she had felt a little dizzy in one or two shops. Not wanting to show any sign of weakness she had not stopped for a drink and a snack in a cafe, which, when she pulled up at the house she realised was foolish of her.

Dot had heard the car draw up and went to help her with her purchases. She was concerned to see how pale her mistress was and immediately set about helping her into the house, calling for lemonade and biscuits from Mr Butler.

'Now, miss,' Dot scolded mildly, 'you know you feel better if you have a biscuit and a drink mid morning, you should have stopped by a cafe.'

Phryne smiled as she sipped the cool drink and nibbled the ginger biscuit.

'Sorry, Dot.' She nodded, 'I won't do it again.'

'Yes you will.' Dot smiled, 'and I will remind you again.'

'Alright, I shall consider myself told.' Mrs Robinson laughed, 'thank you Dot, for caring.'

'Mrs Robinson,' Mr Butler put his head into the parlour, 'where would you like your purchases?'

'The bedroom, please.' Phryne looked up from taking a second biscuit, 'thank you Mr B.' She turned back to Dot, 'Have there been any calls while I was out?'

'Only one, Mrs Stanley called to accept your invitation to spend Christmas day with you.'

'With us, Dot,' Phryne touched her arm, 'you and Hugh are joining us, yes?'

'For the meal, yes, miss,' Dot sighed, 'we have to go and see Hugh's mother first, and mine in the afternoon.'

'It's an invitation, Dot, if you can't accept because of family I quite understand.'

'Oh, no, miss!' Dot gasped, 'we are looking forward to it, though Hugh says he might opt to be on duty next year, then...' Dot blushed at her uncharitable thoughts regarding their respective families. Hugh's mother still didn't approve of her son taking up with the Catholics, and Dot's mother had the same thoughts about Dot taking up with a protestant, albeit one who had converted. At least at the Robinson house nobody worried about which religion anyone followed as it was a mixture of faiths and everybody was just kind to each other, which to Dot was the essence of all faith.

'I won't say a word, Dot dear.' Phryne took her hand, 'but maybe you will have your own family by then.'

'You know miss,' Dot bent to whisper, 'I just might.' She grinned.

'Dot! Really!' Phryne looked at her with wide eyes, 'oh, darling Dot, I'm so happy for you. Now, you keep telling me to take things easy, so...'

'Very well miss.' Dot laughed, 'if you insist.'

'I do.'

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Christmas day was bright, the sun crept through the curtains throwing a shaft of light across the sleeping figures. Phryne was draped over her husband after a night of loving that had gone on into the small hours. Making up for missed opportunities, Jack said, as he had been busy with rather a lot of petty crime leading up to Christmas day and Phryne had been busy organising, shopping and wrapping gifts. They had fallen into bed most nights, exhausted. Jack was worried his rather demanding wife would be upset at his lack of attention to her appetites. But she had been happy to make love occasionally and cuddle up the rest of the time. He did ask, several times, if she was alright, not too tired with the pregnancy.

'I'm perfectly fine, darling,' she had told him on numerous occasions, 'now shut up and kiss me.' An order he had been more than happy to follow and that usually led to, if not making love, quite a lot of very heavy petting.

Dot was not due to arrive until just before the meal, at one o'clock, so Phryne and Jack were assured there would be no interruptions. Jack eased himself out from under her and went to the bathroom. The sound of the toilet flushing woke her and she sighed and stretched. Jack stood in the doorway and grinned at her, his robe, pulled across and tied

'Shall I run a bath, sweetheart?' He asked, softly. 'Perhaps you'd like your back scrubbing.'

She slipped, naked, out of bed and went to him, undoing the tie and opening the robe and stepping inside it herself. It was just big enough to wrap round her as well and he pulled her close, his growing hardness pressing against her belly.

'Not just yet,' she tipped her head to kiss him. 'Meet me in the bed.' She kissed him again and slid her hand against him then moved and headed into the bathroom.

'Tease,' he slapped her backside as she passed him, smiling as she giggled in reply.

He watched her cross the room. She didn't walk she glided, sashayed, a beautiful sight, for him the epitome of impending motherhood. Her breasts slightly fuller, her belly rounded in line with the four months she now was into the pregnancy. She liked the way he looked at her, his eyes moving up and down her body. He flicked the covers back for her to join him and she crawled up the bed until she was level with his face and leaned down to kiss him, slowly. His hands touched her breasts tweaking her nipples then cupping them and gently massaging them. She allowed herself to lie against him and traced her fingers up his chest, moving against him as the kiss deepened.

Jack pushed her onto her back and leaned over her, moving down her body with his hands and his mouth, kissing, licking and sucking, slipping his hands between her legs, moving, teasing her as he felt her slick and ready. He rolled, lifting her over him and onto him, holding her up as she set up a rhythm that was slow, at first. Then her eyes darkened, she ground against him, moving faster as he thrust up and they both released together, gasping and gulping for air, her back arched as she held him there until she had to release him and then fell to lie on her side curled against him.

'Happy Christmas, Jack.' She whispered. 'Thank you for everything.'

'Happy Christmas, my love.' He stroked her shoulder.

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They took their time in the bath, he sat behind her as usual and washed her hair for her, massaging her scalp, then running his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, moving the sponge in lazy circles on her back. He trickled the water over her breasts then abandoned the sponge altogether for his hands, slipping them down under the water and over her special spot, then when she was just about to lose control he lifted her onto him and used his fingers to bring her release as she moved on him in a rather frantic rhythm.

'Oh, Jack,' she lay back on him and sighed, 'I do love you.'

He kissed the top of her head and smiled, wrapping his arms over her and stroking the bump. He would never have believed, when he first met The Honourable Phryne Fisher, that he would ever see her this content and he took pleasure and not a little pride in knowing that he had a lot to do with it.

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After breakfast, guests started to arrive. They had decided that the bulk of the gifts would be opened after lunch, when everybody was there, but Jack had something he wanted to give Phryne rather quietly. So before the first guest, which would be Mrs Stanley, he took her into the parlour and sat her down. It had taken some doing, arranging his gift, but he hoped he had done the right thing.

'Phryne,' he looked at her, 'I wanted to give you this when it was just us. I...'

'Jack?' She looked at the little box in his hand. It was simply wrapped with a bright blue ribbon tied over it. Obviously some sort of jewellery.

'Please know it's given with all my love.'

She took it and slowly untied the ribbon. She lifted to lid to find a silver locked, oval, with familiar chasing round the edge but with the addition of a sapphire now set in the centre.

'Jack,' she put her hand to her mouth, her eyes sparkling with tears, 'it's...isn't it?'

'Open it.' He nodded.

She pressed the tiny catch at the side and gasped. He'd had the old photograph miniaturised and the pictures of her and Janey were set into each frame. It had taken him almost all the time since their return to find someone with the skills to do what he wanted done even though it would might bring back memories, but he hoped the good memories would outweigh the bad.

Tears spilled down her face but she smiled through them.

'Thank you,' she hiccupped, 'it's beautiful in looks and in thought. Oh Jack, what did I ever do to deserve someone as wonderful as you?'

He didn't have an answer for that so contented himself, and her, by wiping her tears with his handkerchief then holding her close, until she had composed herself.

She took a deep breath and looked at him. She had the locket still in her hand. She put it on her knee while she took off the string of pearls she had put round her neck that morning.

Jack took the locket and fastened it round her neck, then put his finger under her chin and tipped her face so he could kiss her gently.

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Aunt Prudence arrived, bearing armfuls of gifts for every member of the household which were placed under the tree with the rest. She commented how well Phryne looked.

'...doesn't she, Jack?' She turned to him and smiled, he really had made her niece into a more sensible woman, or at least that's what it seemed to her.

'Happy Christmas, Aunt P,' Phryne kissed her cheek, 'you look well, too.'

'Have you heard from your parents, dear?' Aunt Prudence accepted the sherry from Mr Butler, 'your mother wrote to me and wanted confirmation of your news, about the baby.'

'Does mother really think I would be that cruel and play such a horrid prank on her?' Phryne pouted.

'No, dear,' Mrs Stanley reached over and touched her hand, 'I think she is just so surprised that you appear to be settling to a rather more domestic lifestyle.'

Jack took a sip of his whisky to hide his smirk, Phryne would never be domestic and he didn't want her to be.

'I still have my investigating,' Phryne said, 'I'm not going to sit knitting, you know.'

'Thank goodness,' her aunt sighed, 'but you will be careful, won't you dear, with your investigating?' Mrs Stanley had long ago realised that Phryne was a force of nature and, given that her own son was a bit of a lounge lizard, appreciated her spirit, even if it did get her into trouble.

'Of course I will.' Phryne smiled.

Prudence turned her attention to the locket round Phryne's neck, so different from anything she had seen her wear before, and she commented on it, how sweet it was.

'It was Janey's,' Phryne fingered it then went to sit next to her aunt. 'Look.'

She told her how it had been found in the attic and showed her what Jack had arranged, explaining that he had had the sapphire set in the middle to represent the blue ribbons that Janey habitually wore in her hair. Prudence contained her tears, just, and said it was probably the most thoughtful gift any man could give to his wife.

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The rest of the day passed in such a whirl Phryne didn't have time to feel tired. Presents were exchanged after lunch, before the Collins family left to visit family. Phryne was a little concerned that Dot looked a little drained and told her to take the following day off and rest.

'Oh no, miss.' Dot smiled, 'I'll be fine.'

'Tell you what, Dot,' Phryne, mindful that she had made some sort of deal with her companion about them both taking things easier, I'll take it easy if you promise to rest too. Jack isn't on duty tomorrow, so I won't be alone.'

'Very well, miss,' Dot agreed, privately grateful that she would have time to spend with Hugh, alone.

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Dot's pregnancy wasn't as easy going as Phryne's. She suffered dreadfully with morning sickness some days so Phryne told her she was only to come over if she felt completely well.

Phryne was well into her sixth month before she even thought about what she needed to get for the nursery. This was a shopping trip she wanted Dot for so was happy to wait, however, Mac wasn't happy to wait any longer about booking her a room for the birth. The doctor chose to tackle her reluctant patient at her next appointment.

'Well, my dear,' Mac sat down, after giving Phryne a thorough examination. 'everything seems to be going marvellously.'

Phryne sat down and smiled. 'Well I'm behaving myself. I'm not tackling the ne'er do wells, chasing them down or climbing over walls.'

'Glad to hear it,' Mac put her pen down and linked her hands together on the desk. 'Now, we need to discuss the birth.'

'I know what happens, Mac,' Phryne also knew what was coming, 'it will hurt, it will be messy but it's fairly short term, isn't it.'

'I know you know the physical aspects, darling, but that's not all.' Mac hated it when Phryne dodged issues. 'It's dangerous, to both mother and child, there are things that go wrong, things we can't predict.'

'Mac,' Phryne stroked her bump, feeling her baby kick, a feeling she found exciting and wondrous in equal measures. 'I shall give birth at home.'

It was a simple statement and Dr Macmillan found she was not surprised at this, 'Phryne, love,' she sighed, 'we have all the equipment here, should anything go awry, not that it will, but...'

'No, Mac,' Phryne looked at her hands, 'nothing will go wrong. I don't like hospitals, you know that. I want to give birth in my own room, in the bed Jack and I love in, not in a white room with other people telling me what I can and can't do with my body.'

'I don't understand why you don't want to be here.' Mac had moved round the desk to sit next to her, 'what is it about a hospital birth that frightens you?'

Phryne stroked her belly again, silently vowing nothing was going to hurt this life inside her. She looked up, but not at Mac, into the distance.

'It was a long time ago, Mac,' she whispered, 'when I was in Paris. We had a friend, a young girl. She was one of Rene's models. Even though Rene and I were together, well as much as he would allow, he still went with some of his models. She didn't have the nous or the money to get protection so she got pregnant. Rene told her to get rid of it,' the very thought made Phryne's colour drain, 'but she couldn't, strict Catholic, you see.'

'Not that strict if she indulged in sex outside marriage,' Mac noted.

'Rene could be very...persuasive.' Phryne mused.

'By persuasive you mean...'

'Forceful.'

'Anyway, when it came time for her to have the baby I paid for her to go into hospital,' Phryne bit her lip, the image of the poor frightened girl in her head, '...she was screaming in pain, they wouldn't give her anything for the pain, even though I said I'd pay. I don't know what they were doing to her, she kept trying to get off the bed, but they held her down. When the baby started to come she was exhausted, so they cut her, somehow, and I don't want to know, thank you, and pulled the child out. He was tiny. They took him away, said he'd be taken care of. She bled so much, I'm amazed she survived.'

'Phryne,' Mac touched her arm, 'I won't let anything like that happen to you.'

'I know, but I'm still going to have the baby at home.' Phryne stood up and took her bag, 'another month?'

'What?' Mac was deep in thought, 'oh, yes, same time, if that's alright with you.'

'Lovely,' Phryne smiled, in her mind it was settled, 'perhaps you'd join us for dinner one night next week. It's been an age.'

'That would be lovely,' Mac smiled, she'd take the opportunity to talk to Jack after dinner.

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Dot was feeling much better now she had passed three months so Phryne and she prepared to go shopping.

'Now, Dot,' Phryne sat at the dining table with her companion, tea and biscuits, feeling some form of fortification was needed for their day. 'I have no idea what I need for the nursery except for a cradle, a wardrobe and chest of drawers. What will I need to clothe the child in?'

'Well, miss,' Dot smiled, 'a cradle will be fine for the early months but then you'll need a cot. Perhaps you could have a bassinet for downstairs, you know in a corner in the parlour, just to save you going up and downstairs all the time. A baby bath, until it's big enough to go in the proper bath, you're right about somewhere for the clothes and baby linen. A pram to take the baby for walks in.' Dot tipped her head and watched her mistresses reaction to the prospect of being seen pushing a pram around Melbourne.

'Well, Dot,' I suppose we'd better go and see what we can get.' Phryne stood up and headed upstairs to get her coat and prepared herself for shopping in a world that was so far removed from that she had inhabited for so long it actually scared her.

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Because Dot was also expecting she had looked at the various emporia that sold nursery equipment, from those that she herself would go into and those that would be far beyond her reach, financially, and Mrs Robinson was a generous employer. She directed Phryne to one she thought would have just what she needed and, feeling she knew her mistress well, one whose merchandise was both stylish and practical. Even Mrs Robinson's nursery would be chic, she thought.

Phryne looked around her, it all seemed to crowd her at first and she wobbled a little, the enormity of what she was embarking on flooding her senses. She gripped Dot's arm a bit too tightly.

'Miss,' Dot turned, 'are you alright?'

'Yes,...' she inhaled deeply, 'yes, sorry, Dot. Just rather a lot to take in.'

'I know how you feel.' Dot smiled, 'what would you like to start with?'

'Er... I think perhaps the nursery furniture, then the pram.'

Dot had chosen the shop well. The owner allowed them to browse, only offering help or suggestions when asked for it, making the whole experience a lot less frightening than when they had stepped over the threshold.

Phryne chose a cot, a bassinet for the nursery and a cradle for the parlour. The cradle was a pendulum style which meant that anyone passing could rock the baby and the style and finish would complement the furniture in the parlour. The wardrobe and chest she chose were of a simple design, plenty of hanging room and shelves to one side for folded items. Phryne allowed herself to be guided by Dot only choosing on the design, when Dot had pointed out that there was enough storage. The baby bath was more problematic. Phryne didn't like the utilitarian design of the items available. They were all pretty much the same, a small porcelain bath tub set on metal legs. She found them ugly and given she had taken care in choosing the rest of the furniture she felt the bath deserved the same attention.

The shop owner sympathised and suggested that perhaps something of an older design might be more what she wanted.

'How so?' Phryne sighed, her feet were beginning to ache.

'Victorian ones used to be a bowl, porcelain, set into a table, with a cover that made it something other than what it was if anyone looked into the room.' She smiled, 'my mother used one for us when we were babes.'

'I suppose they aren't made like that anymore,' Phryne huffed.

'Well, not really, but I do know someone who does things like that,' She offered the tired looking mother to be a chair. 'I could give you his name if you like.'

'Really, that would be lovely.' Phryne relaxed, she'd been bathed in the kitchen sink, maybe Mr Butler would let her use theirs.

She moved on to choosing a pram, which would have to be ordered. There were several designs, many had very deep bodies which she thought looked bulky and heavy. She finally settled on one that had a higher set body which, as Dot noted, she would not have to actually get in to find the baby somewhere at the bottom.

Placing the orders and arranging a delivery date, Phryne paid and left, with the name and contact of the person she hoped would be able to make her a baby bath to suit her desires.

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'So, that's all I've done today, Jack,' she cuddled next to him in the parlour before dinner. 'I didn't realise it would take so long, or be so exhausting.'

'You should have waited for me to help you.'

'Darling,' she leaned in and kissed him, 'you know less than I do about furnishing a baby's room. Dot and I were fine, I shall contact this person for a baby bath and tomorrow we will go out and shop for baby wear, and I am relying on Dot for that too!'

'Alright, but don't get too tired, remember Mac is joining us for dinner.' Jack warned her, 'did you tell her you're having the baby here?'

'Yes, and I told her why, but I know she still wants me to be in hospital.' Phryne pouted, filling him in on the reason.

'Well, I'm on your side.' He pulled her into a strong embrace the kind that told her he was going to be with her, as he said he would be in the beginning.

'Thank you, Jack.' They went in to dinner and she told him all about the furniture she had ordered, and the pram. 'So we can go for a stroll in the gardens just like any other couple with their baby.'

'Any other couple?' Jack smirked, 'never, not Phryne and Jack Robinson, we're not just any couple, are we?'

She laughed, how often had she said she wasn't like other people, she wanted to live life to the full.

'And you do, my dear, you do.'

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Dot held Phryne back when they went shopping the following day for the baby layette.

Miss, you don't need so much at first.' Dot had stopped her buying more than half a dozen sets of linen for the bassinet, cradle and cot. 'You can always buy more later, if you think we can't keep up with the laundry, but with the purchase of the washing machine we'll be fine. Now, the things you need the most of, are nappies, muslins, vests, some nightgowns and cardigans and little bonnets. When the baby is born you can buy proper clothes because you will have found out whether it is a boy or girl.'

'Dot, I don't know what I'd do without you,' Phryne sighed.

'Well I don't know if there'd be anything left for the other mother's in Melbourne if...' Dot felt she was getting a little above herself, but really, Mrs Robinson should not be let loose in a shop on her own, when she didn't really know what she needed. She was bad enough when she went out to buy a new dress, one was never enough!

'Thank you, Dot,' She smiled later, 'for keeping me in check. It's just...well, I don't want to be short of anything, but I see the sense in waiting until he or she has arrived, a dress on a boy will never do.'

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Mac arrived for dinner to find Phryne sitting on the floor in the nursery surrounded by baby paraphernalia. She was holding up an impossibly small nightgown, well Phryne thought it was impossibly small.

'It will fit perfectly, Phryne,' Mac teased, 'they tend to be small when born, loud at one end, no sense of responsibility at the other, but still, think about how it's going to get out, it can't be too big, can it?'

'I'm worried I'll hurt it,' Phryne had begun to worry a lot since she had gone shopping, 'I'm used to hugging tightly, what if I squash it?'

'You won't.' Mac put her arms round her,' you'll love it, I've seen you be gentle, your instincts are to protect, not hurt those around you.'

Phryne piled the layette up and placed it back in the boxes it had arrived in than allowed Mac to help her up.

'Dot's been helping me,' she told her, 'because this is one thing I am pretty clueless on.'

Mac laughed, the thought of Phryne Robinson being clueless on anything was amusing. 'What about somewhere for it to sleep?'

'Oh, we've arranged for the furniture to be delivered in a month's time, and the pram will be ready just before the baby's due.' Phryne took her friend's arm and they sauntered downstairs where Mr Butler had drinks ready for them, whisky for Mac and a fruit juice medley for his mistress.

'Not drinking doesn't seem to worry you, I'm happy to see.' Mac felt a tiny bit guilty about her drink.

'Truthfully, Mac, I don't really notice.' She relaxed against the back of the couch, 'Mr Butler can do wonderful things with fruit juice. I went off it almost as soon as I conceived and have never bothered to try it again.'

'I still can't believe how calmly you're taking it all,' the doctor commented, 'I mean you've always avoided children...'

'A girl can change her mind, can't she?' Phryne pouted. 'I was worried, at the beginning, I still think I'll be a rotten mother, and with any other man as the father I would probably have done something that now I can't bear to even think about. Jack did something to me, I don't know what, but when I met him at the airport that day it was if everything fell into place, as if the last pieces of a jigsaw had been put into place. I don't know how to describe it.' Tears pricked at her eyes. Mac moved over to sit by her and put her arm round her,

'Well, perhaps you should bottle whatever it is he has.'

'It's not for sale.' Phryne whispered then smiled as she heard the door open and the man in question arrived back from the station. He peeked into the parlour,

'Ladies, good evening.' He went to kiss his wife, properly, even though they had a guest, and smiled at Mac.

'Hello darling,' Phryne purred, his kiss promised more for later, he must have had a good day. 'Shall I have Mr B pour you a drink before dinner?'

'I'll just go and wash up,' he nodded, 'back in a moment.'

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Conversation over dinner centred on what Phryne had bought for the baby. Mr Butler had again put out a light dinner, that was also filling. A starter of prawns served on a bed of salad leaves with a lemon dressing, roast chicken with rosemary roast potatoes and vegetables, followed by a chocolate tart and cream for those who desired it. Mac was pleased to see her patient ate everything, albeit smaller portions than she used to but she also knew that Phryne snacked between meals as the indigestion that Dot had warned her about had indeed struck if she ate the way she used to.

'Well, my dear,' she sat back and smiled, finishing the wine in her glass, 'a superb meal as always.'

'Mr Butler has a knack of preparing the right amount of the right foods.' Phryne smiled, 'he knows exactly what I can eat and how much.'

'Indeed.' Jack nodded, 'he keeps it light for you and the rest of us don't suffer either.'

There was a silence for a while then Mac took a deep breath and decided to tackle the subject that she wanted Jack to help her with.

'Jack,' she turned to look at him, deliberately avoiding the looks Phryne was giving her, 'Phryne has said she wants to have the baby at home, I was hoping you...'

Jack cut her off, 'I support Phryne in her decision.' He leant over to take his wife's hand, 'she has her reasons and I don't think that upsetting her is a good idea.'

'I know her reasons, but things have moved on,' Mac was becoming insistent, 'if anything were to go wrong...'

'But it won't,' Jack was never so sure of anything in his life, 'you will still be here, won't you? My sister had her two at home and everything was fine, she was calm and the births went well.'

'Of course I'll be here.' Mac was horrified to think that they would consider anyone else.

'Another thing, doctor,' Jack looked serious, 'I promised Phryne, right at the beginning, that I would be with her every step of the way and I will, so that means I will be with her even then.'

Phryne looked open mouthed, she hadn't expected him to tell Mac that he would be at the birth until the very last minute.

'I don't know, Jack,' Mac said, 'it's not usually fitting for a man to see his wife like that.'

'A promise is a promise, Mac,' Jack stated firmly. 'If there is any special equipment you want us to have available let us know.'

His tone told her there was no changing either of their minds, she sighed and decided she would make preparations for a home birth.

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So, it looks like Phryne will get her own way, as usual.

Updates may be even slower for a while, 10 munchkin costumes to make!


	15. Chapter 15

Phryne breezed in from her appointment with Mac, now at fortnightly intervals. Again she had passed, Mac said she was the healthiest pregnant woman she had ever come across.

'Perhaps it's because I don't worry about it.' Phryne had suggested, 'after all, what will that do? Probably put my blood pressure up for one thing.'

'Are you really not worried about anything?' Dr Macmillan sat in her chair and looked at her. 'I mean, it's a huge change for you, and you don't even complain about the size of your bump, which is neat and just right, I might add.'

'I think if I had money problems, or an abusive husband, still lived in the slums, then I might.' She admitted, 'but, I can afford to have a child, I have a, _very,_ loving and supportive husband, a nice home and I can afford good care, so why worry. Now, when it comes to the actual birth, well, I might teach Jack a few words, and afterwards I may vow never to do it again. So we shall see.'

Mac shook her head, 'Are you seriously thinking of having another one, before this one is even born?'

'I don't believe in only children, Mac,' Phryne's face took on a softer expression, 'Janey and I had so much fun together, I don't want to deny my child that closeness.'

'Phryne Robinson, you never fail to surprise me.'

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'Any calls, Dot,' She took her hat and coat off and headed to the kitchen.

'Just one, miss,' Dot was preparing tea and biscuits, 'Lady Dunstan, she asked if you would call her back, her number's by the phone.'

'Ooh, wonder what she wants,' Phryne took a biscuit off the tray, 'we had a card at Christmas, and I've had a couple of letters. I'll go and call her.' She headed out to the hall, 'lovely biscuits, by the way.'

'Thank you, miss,' Dot smiled.

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'Emily, darling!' Phryne sang down the phone, 'how are you?'

At the other end of the phone in her parlour Emily Dunstan found herself grinning at the bright and breezy tone, she perched on the table ready to talk,

'Phryne, it's so good to hear your voice.' She sighed, 'that lovely girl who answered said you were at the doctor's, you're not ill are you?'

'That 'lovely girl' is Dot, my companion and partner in the detecting.' Phryne liked the idea that Dot had come across well on the phone, 'and no, I'm not ill, I'm pregnant.'

'Really?' Emily almost dropped the phone, 'blimey, how far on?'

'Nearly seven months.' Phryne smiled at Emily's use of the word 'blimey' and Robinson junior kicked. 'Now, what's your news?'

'Actually, I was wondering if I could have some help, with Edward.' Emily's voice was quiet, 'I think he's up to something. I can't discuss it over the phone, but if you're pregnant...'

'Not ill, dear.' Phryne muttered, 'if you can put me up, and Dot and maybe a couple of chaps who help me out...I can't bring Jack, he can't take too much time away.'

'There's plenty of room.' Emily sounded brighter already, 'where do you want the chaps lodging, there's the bunkhouse, or the staff quarters, they're empty I only have a cook-housekeeper. Dot can have a room next to you.'

'Staff quarters, probably best.' Phryne couldn't see the red raggers in a bunkhouse.

'Oh, Phryne, I'm so glad you can come.' Emily's voice was heavy with relief, 'I'll get rooms ready, when will you arrive?'

'Two days, if that's alright.'

'Wonderful! You have the address, don't you?'

'From your letters,' Phryne made a note to ask Mac if she was ok to ride in her condition, somehow she didn't think so.

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She was right about riding, Mac said absolutely not, it was far too dangerous, and when she highlighted the dangers Phryne said that was fine, she'd stay well out of the way of horses. In fact she felt slightly nauseous at the thought of all that could happen if she rode and something went even slightly wrong!

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'Are you sure it's a good idea?' Jack asked over dinner. She had told him over their pre-dinner drink of Emily's call and her impending trip to Meredith. 'Edward...'

'Couldn't knock the skin off a rice pudding,' she grinned, doing precisely that to her dessert, something she had a fancy for that particular day. Mr Butler had done the simple dish slowly in the over and sprinkled it with nutmeg, it was thick and creamy and utterly delicious. She had fought Jack for the scrapings round the edge.

'I'm taking Cec and Bert, as well as Dot.' She put the empty dish on the table, suggestively sucking her finger of the last bit of milk, 'I promise to take care. If we're going to be there over the weekend, perhaps you could come over?'

'Promise to call me if it gets more than you can handle. I know,' he held his hands up before she could argue, 'there's nothing you can't handle, but..'

'Alright, darling,' she reached over and squeezed his hand, her face softening from the scowl, 'I'll look after this precious cargo.' She stroked the bump and felt the baby kick against her hand, softly. She moved her chair over to him and drew his hand over the spot where she had felt the movement. He held his hand still, the warmth prompted another little kick and he smiled.

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Phryne decided against taking the Hispano, Cec and Bert could drive, she found long journey's behind the wheel more uncomfortable the further along she got, her belly getting in the way, pushing her seat back meant that reaching the pedals was becoming an issue and Dot was not yet ready to drive that far.

It was a pleasant drive, a little over two hours at a good pace, and the red raggers were good drivers. Phryne dozed on and off, wondering what it was that Edward had done to cause Emily to need a private detective. She didn't sound as if he had become violent with her, not frightened just, well, almost annoyed, perhaps saddened or disappointed.

Cec pulled up at the bottom of a long drive. The post announced it was 'Dunstan's Cattle Ranch'. Phryne noted it was a new sign, clean and sharply engraved. Probably Emily's idea, she thought.

'On we go, Cec,' Phryne called from the back seat, 'let's see what we have.'

The house was a large two storey building, predominantly white with a green balcony underneath which could be seen a veranda with a green fence round it, wrought iron scrolls with leaves, and the front door, also green, four panelled. It had been recently painted, and looked clean and inviting. The door opened to reveal Emily Dunstan, wiping her hands on an apron that she promptly removed when she saw her visitors.

'Phryne!' She held her arms wide in greeting, 'how lovely,' she held her at arm's length, 'you look marvellous, blooming.' She hugged her again.

'Well, Emily Dunstan,' Phryne was amazed at the change in the young woman. She looked well, happy, had filled out a little. The haunted, frightened little mouse had gone. 'You look amazing. Don't tell me you cook as well as run the place?'

'We all join in here, Phryne,' She clasped her hands, 'I've learned to bake bread, cook a decent roast. I do have a cook housekeeper, but it is a big place, there is a lot to do. And, you know, Phryne, I'm having the time of my life.'

Phryne turned and introduced her companions,

'This is Dot, who answered the phone to you,' She drew Dot forward.

'Dot, you look as lovely as you sound,' Emily smiled.

'Lady Dunstan.' Dot inclined her head shyly.

Emily, please.' She turned to the red raggers and Phryne introduced them as salt of the earth, but don't engage them in political conversation, best men to have on your side.

Emily escorted them into the house which had a large airy hall way. Phryne rightly surmised Emily had had a fresh coat of paint put over most of the walls, it was clean and fresh, painted cream, with a green dado rail and wainscotting. There was the phone table that Emily had perched on during her call to her friend in Melbourne, on which was also a vase of flowers.

'Now I'm sure you'd like to freshen up after your journey, so I'll show you to your rooms and then we'll have tea in the front parlour.'

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Phryne's room was bright and sunny, she felt it reflected her hostess' true nature, not the sad and sorry woman she had met on the ship. Dot came through from her room, which, when the house was built, would have been a dressing room. It was light, tastefully furnished with a single bed, wardrobe and chest of drawers. There was a bathroom on the opposite side of her mistress' room that she would use.

'Shall I help you unpack, miss?' She looked at Phryne, sitting on the bed.

'Hm..?' Her mistress turned, 'Oh yes, please. Sorry, Dot, I was miles away.'

Dot just smiled and set about putting her things away, arranging her dressing table the way she usually had it at home and putting out a dress for later. Phryne left her to it and went to use the bathroom, Robinson junior was taking over the space normally reserved for her bladder which she found disconcerting. She washed her face and returned to the bedroom to repair her make-up.

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Over tea Emily told how she and Edward had found the ranch to be well run by the manager, Bill Thompson. It had been a trying time for him, the previous owner had been absent most of the time, in Bendigo, before his untimely death under the wheels of a train. The ranch had been put up for sale and, Lord Dunstan, Edward's father, had bought it in order to set his son up with a useful occupation. He had noticed his drinking and decided that a place away from England, where he could, hopefully establish himself as a landowner in the colonies might do him good. He didn't want to see Emily go, who he felt had been done a disservice, being married off to Edward, but, contrary to Phryne's initial reaction, he hadn't completely lost his marbles.

They had a good herd of cattle, selling for meat and dairy.

'When we first came the place practically ran itself in that it earned enough to pay the bills,' Emily offered Phryne a scone, 'pay the men and make a decent profit. Edward, at first, took no interest in the place, sitting in the study, sulking. Bill the manager, dealt with me, he took me round showed me the extent of the farm, took me over the books and we fell into a good working relationship.' She looked at Phryne who wondered if it was only that, a 'working' relationship.

'Now he's taking an interest, yes?' Phryne took a bite of the scone which she had put a generous amount of cherry preserve on.

'No,' Emily sighed, 'but the profit margin has closed. We don't have as much spare income as we did. Edward's behaviour has become increasingly erratic, he spends a lot of time in town, when he isn't in the study, and he can be quite nasty when he's around. He hasn't hit me, but I feel it is only a matter of time.'

'The books?'

'Look just as they should do, but I went into town to draw out to pay the feed bill and the manager asked me into his office.' Emily's face clouded, 'we have a lot less in the bank than my calculations indicated.'

'But the statements?' Phryne was surprised that she could have missed this.

'Between statements, I knew I hadn't drawn any out so the only other person could be Edward.' Emily looked angry, 'Bill, you see, has to get me or him to sign any cheques. Oh, Phryne, he'll ruin us, I've put some of my legacy into the bank to cover the loss, but father gave me that to be used in an emergency.'

'Does he have his own cheque book for the account?'

'Well, he didn't have, but I suppose as he is the legal owner he could have asked for one.' Emily heaved a sigh.

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Edward didn't dine with his wife and their guests, Emily said he never did and apologised for his rudeness. Sometimes she ate with the men in the side room to the kitchen. She had invited the manager to join them, he knew all that Emily had found out, as he had been the first she had talked to about it. In no way had she accused him of taking money out of the account, in fact he had been as astonished as she was.

Phryne watched them together. He was tall, well built, muscular and tanned from days out with the herd. His fair hair was sun bleached to almost white gold, blue eyes twinkled as he talked to them, and his beard was neat but not too closely cut. Emily was completely at ease with him and Phryne could see trust and friendship there. It pleased her that she had someone she could rely on because if Edward did become violent she would need a champion. If Edward was still the drunken sop from her memory, Bill could quite easily knock him down with a slight tap!

They dined on home bred roast beef, roast potatoes and vegetables, all home grown, and the apple pie had a sweet and crumbly crust.

Cec and Bert would later suggest that if Mrs Robinson ever dispensed with their services they would see if they could get work there, as the farm hands ate the same meal at a long table.

Phryne asked if she could have a look at the books the following day and then they would see if the bank manager would talk to her, if Emily and Bill would take them over.

'Of course,' Emily smiled, 'he wouldn't tell me anything because I am a woman..'

Phryne groaned, 'yet you run the place. Honestly.' She rolled her eyes.

''Y'know,' Bill smiled, 'she's the best I've worked with. Quick to learn, no airs and graces with Miss Emily.'

Phryne saw something akin to adoration in his eyes while Emily blushed a little.

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She didn't sleep as well as she would have done if a certain Detective Inspector had been there with her. She hadn't realised just how much she had got used to him, how much a part of her he was.

Dot had taken the time to acquaint herself with the housekeeper, Mrs Stonehaven and had been shown where everything was should she need to provide for her mistress, in her condition. She put a tray down on the dresser and opened the curtains on a bright, clear day.

Phryne groaned at the invasion of light on her eyes and shifted into a reclining position against the pillows.

'Coffee, miss,' Dot smiled, 'hope it's strong enough.' She poured a cup and handed it to her, 'there's a lot going on already, the men have had their breakfast and are out working the cattle, Miss Emily is up and about and talking to Mr Thompson about taking you into town.

'It's impossibly early,' she moaned, 'isn't it?' She sipped the coffee and sighed.

'Eight thirty, miss,' Dot busied herself laying out trousers, which Madame Fleurie and her team of very talented seamstresses had designed to grow with her. 'Not too early.' She put out a blouse and underwear.

'Sorry, Dot. I didn't sleep too well.' She drained her cup, 'I suppose I'm not used to sleeping alone anymore.'

'Well, then, miss,' Dot smiled, 'I suppose we'd better sort out this case and get you home.'

'I doubt it will be as simple as that.' Phryne got out of bed and stretched, then grinned as the baby kicked enthusiastically. 'Somebody else is awake,' she rubbed her bump, 'I don't suppose you could run me a quick bath, could you?'

'Of course, miss.' Dot headed to the bathroom, to draw the bath and set out her toiletries.

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The bank manager was an officious little man, with a round head, a rounder body and a pencil moustache. Phryne thought he looked like a caricature, something she might see in a children's comic. He sat at his desk, and folded his hands across his ample stomach and peered through round spectacles.

'Now, Lady Dunstan,' he sneered, 'how may I be of assistance?'

'It's about the farm account,' Emily smiled, 'as you know, funds have gone missing, withdrawn, but not for bills.'

'I'm not at liberty to say,' he sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers. 'Bank details, like medical ones, are confidential.'

'This is not a personal account,' Phryne pointed out, 'it is a business account. From my dealings in finance I believe that is embezzlement, and as such is a criminal offence. If a cheque book has been drawn against the account then Lady Dunstan has every right to know by whom. After all, Mr..' she picked up his name plate from the desk, '...Bryant, you wouldn't want to lose the business for the bank, would you.' She gave him one of her most disarming smiles.

'I, er, really, Mrs...'

'Robinson, Phryne Robinson.' She inclined her head, 'now, shall we start again?'

It took the best part of an hour before Mr Bryant agreed to confirm that Edward had had a cheque book issued for his personal use, and then to acknowledge that it was detrimental to his business, and Lady Dunstan's cattle farm, so it would be wise to block any withdrawals unless Emily had authorised them.

Mr Bryant was completely blindsided by the efficient nature of Mrs Robinson. Edward's cheque book would be cancelled, but, they wanted to know what he was spending his money on. That was more difficult as he drew cash, never writing a cheque to an individual.

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'I suppose I need to talk to Edward, again.' Emily sighed as she drew up outside the house. 'He slammed the study door in my face last time I tried to tackle him about it.'

'Want me to back you up?' Phryne asked.

'That would be nice,' Emily smiled at Bill as he opened the car door for her and Phryne noticed the way he held her hand as she alighted. 'You said you wanted to check the water levels, Bill, in the creek.'

'Yes, Miss Emily.' He nodded, 'I'll head over there now, I should be back this evening.'

'Coffee or tea, I think,' Emily turned to her guests, 'then, Edward.'

'What's that building over there?' Dot pointed to a small structure just past the garden.

'That?' Emily turned and looked in the direction of Dot's finger, 'that's the old visitor's cabin. It was used mainly for overflow guests years ago. Nobody goes there anymore.' She headed into the house. Phryne looked at Dot who mouthed, 'Later,' and they followed her inside.

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Emily knocked on the study door after they had tea and decided what they would put to Edward, that is, she would provide him with a monthly allowance to cover whatever he wanted. He was to leave the running of the farm to her and they would have a solicitor draw up a legal agreement. She would still ask for his signature on any documentation regarding the farm as a matter of propriety. Effectively, it meant they would lead separate lives

'It can be done, Emily,' Phryne assured her, 'I had similar drawn up for my parents.'

'I'm not sure I want to know what he spent the money on,' Emily admitted, sadly, 'in fact, perhaps it would be better if I did not know.'

'Self preservation, my dear.' Phryne touched her arm and smiled.

There was no answer to her knock so she turned the handle, and, finding it unlocked went in. The room was tidy, but there was no sign of Edward. Mrs Stonehaven, passing with the tea tray, stopped when she saw the door open.

'His Lordship left,' she poked her nose through the door, 'just after you, Miss Emily.'

'Oh, thank you, Mrs Stonehaven.' Emily smiled. 'Well, I suppose I'll have to catch him later.' She turned to leave the room.

Phryne watched her, head held high, lips set in a grim line.

'Emily,' she caught her hand, 'why don't you phone the solicitor, tell him what you want and ask him to draw up the agreement ready. You can ask him to call when you have spoken to Edward. We'll leave you to it.'

'Thank you, Phryne.'

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Up in her room Phryne sat on the bed while Dot sat in on the stool at the dressing table.

'Miss,' Dot looked round, 'I'm sure I saw movement at the visitor's cabin, when we came in.'

'Dot, pass me the camera.' Phryne held out her hand, it was a thought she had had when Emily had called, that a photograph or two might be useful in this case. Having met Edward and seen his behaviour on the ship, and Emily's testimony of her marital issues she had a feeling that he was perhaps not attracted to women. Much as she was quite happy to let everyone love who they wanted, using a marriage to hide one's sexuality was unfair on the other spouse. She checked for film and smiled. 'Shall we go for a walk, Dot, dear?'

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The housekeeper informed them that Miss Emily had gone out on the farm and would probably be out most of the day, she would prepare a light lunch for them round one o'clock if that was acceptable.

'That would be lovely, thank you.' Phryne linked her arm through Dot's, 'we thought we'd go for a walk.'

'See you later, then.'

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The cabin was more of a lodge, Phryne decided. A small brick built building that, when she looked through the window, comprised of an open living room with a small table and a couple of chairs set against one wall, a couch in front of the fireplace a side table and an easy chair to one side. Round the back of the lodge she saw a small kitchen with the usual furnishings. There was no sign that anybody had occupied the place recently. Back at the front she tried the door. It was locked but Dot put her hand on her arm before she deployed her lock pick.

'Why don't you knock, first, miss?' She suggested. 'Just in case. It's a bit small to have any hiding places if you get caught.'

Phryne smiled and rapped sharply on the wood before listening for footsteps or movement of any kind. They waited a good five minutes, which, to the Lady Detective, seemed an eternity. Finally they gave up and Phryne picked the lock. She opened the door to reveal a small hall with stairs directly in front of them and a door to the left which would lead to the living room. Having seen enough of that area through the window she headed up the stairs to see what accommodation it afforded. At the top of the stairs there was a bed area to the left, the bed had been freshly made up and there were toiletries on the dresser, male grooming, Phryne noticed when she went over to look. The bed linen was fresh, and on looking in the drawers there were items of male clothing, good quality, of the style and range that an English Lord would were.

Dot checked the right hand side and found a small but adequate bathroom, fresh towels, sandlewood scented soap, shaving equipment. She passed this information to her mistress.

'I think someone is moving, or has already moved in.' Phryne mused, 'now, is it Edward or is it his lover.'

'Miss,' Dot gasped, 'these are all men's things.'

'I know, Dot,' Phryne smiled gently, 'don't let it bother you. These things happen.'

Dot shuddered.

'Do we tell Miss Emily?'

'Not yet, well,' Phryne thought, 'I'll suggest it, but we have no proof, and until then...'

'Very well, Miss,' Dot went to the top of the stairs, 'shall we go now?'

'Yes Dot,' Phryne could see how uncomfortable she felt.

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Phryne slept after lunch. She had a feeling there may be a night time sortie and, having had a less than acceptable night's sleep she thought it advisable. Dot agreed and settled her under a light blanket, dressed in her underwear. Dot went to help the housekeeper with the cooking for the evening and, of course, see if she could get any 'gossip' from her.

Mrs Stonehaven was more than willing to chat about her new master and mistress. She liked Miss Emily very much. She was a fair employer and a willing learner. It was nice to have someone in the kitchen to help.

'No side to Miss Emily,' she declared, 'it's him...his lordship.'

'Mrs Robinson met them on the way home from England,' Dot finished chopping onions for the stew, 'she said he touched her leg under the table at dinner!' Dot raised her eyebrows.

'Oh, I'm quite sure she's safe there.' Mrs Stonehaven set her lips in a thin line, 'he's not..., what I'd call a man.'

'Right,' Dot thought this was a bit more than gossip. 'I haven't met him yet.'

'No, and with luck you won't. He stays in the study, drinking or, well I'm not saying, but I'm glad he cleans his own dirty thoughts up!'

Dot blushed furiously, she knew exactly what she meant, miss had explained a lot more than her mother did before she married Hugh.

Emily and Bill came in through the kitchen door, pink from riding out to the creek and washed their hands in the sink.

'The creek's really full,' she grinned, 'we should have no trouble for some time.'

'Still need to check it, say once a week?'

'I bow to your higher knowledge Bill,' she turned to Dot, 'Phryne about?'

'Taking a nap,' Dot smiled, 'she does some afternoons.'

'Right, I'll talk to her when she wakes,' Emily pulled a jug of lemonade out of the fridge and poured some for her and Bill, offering it to the two cooks. 'I've spoken to the solicitor and he can come over tomorrow with an agreement. He says it's a good idea.'

'She'll be pleased about that.'

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Edward didn't seem to have returned by the time dinner was served. The chicken stew that Dot had helped prepare was tasty and filling, served with mashed potatoes and green beans and followed by a fruit salad. Dot remarked that they hadn't seen Cec and Bert that day.

'No,' Phryne grinned, 'they've been doing a bit of snooping for me, I'll let you know what they've found when they do. They said they had to confirm what they thought before they spoke to me properly.'

'Is this about Edward or the men?' Emily asked, worried there was something untoward happening there, though Bill assured her that they were the best men and had worked there for long enough that he trusted every man-jack of them.

'Edward.' But Phryne would say no more. What the red raggers had found was in town, something about Edward meeting someone and then driving off, but not towards the farm.

Emily told her about the solicitor, that he would bring over an agreement the following day. She had gone over the accounts with Bill and they had agreed an amount that they could offer Edward.

Phryne suggested he be banished to the cabin, it seemed nice and out of the way, he could entertain himself without upsetting Emily.

'That's not a bad idea.' Emily grinned and turned to Bill, 'I could actually pretend he doesn't exist and get on with my life.'

'You try to do that anyway,' he grinned back, and Phryne saw more than respect, it was an attraction, reminding her a bit of hers and Jack's relationship in the early days.

Emily was the last to go to bed that night. Her guests had retired, Phryne saying her pregnancy made her tired and Bill needed to check the bunkhouse.

She went to pull the drapes at the parlour window but stopped, there was a light in the upstairs window of the cabin. She went and pulled on a coat over the light cotton dress she had put on for dinner, nothing formal but better than the riding breeches and shirt she had been in that afternoon. She slipped a pair of flat pumps on her stocking feet and headed over to the small building.

Walking round it she could see that someone was there. In the moonlight she could see two glasses on the side table and the embers in the grate. She pushed at the front door, it opened. Standing in the hall she thought she could hear someone upstairs, sighing, moaning, but they were moans of pleasure. She tiptoed up the stairs until she could see into the bed area without going right up to the top. She saw two pairs of legs, male, two more steps and she wished she hadn't. She could see them from the waist down, hands on each other's hips, still wearing shorts but both aroused! She put her hand over her mouth to stifle the gasp and somehow managed to get downstairs and out of the building without being heard or seen.

How could she have been so blind?

She ran without thinking where she was going, tears streaming down her face. She found herself at the stables, only the horses to see her distress. She threw herself onto her horse, not caring about tack or her safety. She urged the animal forward at a reckless gallop.

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Bill had put a stop to a late game of two up in the bunkhouse and was about to go to bed himself. Thinking on the afternoon down at the creek, where he had kissed Emily, lightly on the cheek to make her smile when she had told him what Phryne had suggested , then apologised only to have her smile and pat his cheek sweetly. He'd like to punch Edward in the face.

He heard hooves, at a gallop and looked out to see Emily heading towards the creek, what the hell was she doing?

He ran to the stables and grabbed a horse himself. He was used to riding bareback, but he wasn't sure about her, though from what he could see she was doing just fine!

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Emily arrived at the creek, breathless, with no idea Bill was behind her. She dismounted and stood next to the running water. She kicked off her shoes, threw her coat to the floor and pulled her dress over her head, buttons flying over the ground. Bill was almost there but pulled up short when he saw her standing in her silk cami knickers and stockings only. Surely she wasn't about to throw herself in. He leapt of his horse just as she jumped in and went under. He pulled off his boots and jumped in after her, grabbing her under the arms and lifting her up, coughing and gasping, hitting his chest with her fists.

'Miss Emily,' he shouted, 'Emily! Stop! Please!'

She suddenly realised who was holding her and collapsed against him, sobbing,

'I saw him Bill,' she clung to him, 'in the cabin, with another man!'

He pulled her close and stroked her back. Even through his shirt he could feel her hardened nipples, from the cold, he assumed. She turned her head to look up at him,

'Bill,' she whispered, 'what do I do now?'

His only answer, rightly or wrongly, he was about to find out, was to lower his head and press his lips to hers. At first she stiffened then parted her lips enough for him touch her teeth with his tongue, and before either knew what they were doing they were waist deep in cold water kissing more passionately than she had ever been kissed before. He lifted her up, she was at least a foot shorter than him, resting her bottom on his forearm. Her arms were round his neck, her legs round his waist, she felt she was sitting on more than his forearm as he carried her out of the creek and lay her down on her discarded coat. He was leaning over her, balanced on one hand while the other undid the fastenings of her cami-knickers between her legs. She knew what was about to happen and she wanted it more than anything, her fingers blindly searching for the belt and buttons of his trousers, pushing them down and as he plunged his fingers inside her, rough, hard hands making her groan with pleasure, she pushed his shorts down, so glad he didn't wear a union suit touching his hardness and they rutted like animals, until both released with moans and gasps of pain from her, but it was a pain she wanted, over and over again.

'Miss Emily,' Bill gasped, astounded that she would even consider being with someone like him. He'd liked her from their first meeting, perhaps even dreamed that this could happen, especially after he met her husband and realised that there was no real marriage. She was too pretty to live like that.

'Oh Bill,' she smiled as he rolled off her, 'that was...amazing.' She felt alive.

He looked at her, her hair was tangled, spread out over the ground, her eyes bright with sheer joy. The damp silk of her underwear showed she wore no bra, such small breasts the nipples still proud, he started to become aroused again. She noticed and grinned and licked her lips. He pulled her over onto him and let her undo the buttons of his shirt and kiss his chest through the hairs, she traced her fingers over the muscles and wriggled gently over his waist, feeling the tip of him against her buttocks.

'Again, Bill,' she whispered and he lifted her up so she could guide him in and she moved in a slower rhythm, taking her time to feel him in her. He placed his hands on her hips then moved them up inside her cami-knickers and lifted it off over her head. Now he could really see her, naked and pure, skin glistening in the moonlight and the arch of her neck as she threw back her head in ecstasy and he flooded into her again. She shuddered again and fell onto him, breathing hard and tangling her fingers in his chest hair.

They lay there for some time, warm in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

'You'll catch your death,' Bill murmured, wrapping his arms round her. 'I'd best get you back.'

'Bill,' she pulled her dress over her head as he fastened his trousers and shirt, rolling off her coat and helping her into it. 'What happens now?'

'I don't know.' He answered truthfully. 'I can't really be seen coming to your room nor you to the bunkhouse, that's if you want this again.'

'Of course I do.' She pushed her hands into her pockets. 'Bill, do you want me, again?' It occurred to her in that instant that he might see what had just happened as a quick diversion. But he pulled her to him and kissed her gently on the lips.

'I do, I want you in my bed every night, but Edward is the problem.' He stroked her head, 'and the men. If they knew...' Bedding the owner's wife was not regarded as acceptable.

'As manager, Bill,' she had been thinking for a while, 'I don't feel you should be sharing the bunkhouse with the hands. You aren't a farm hand.'

'What is your thinking?' They were on the horses now, making their way slowly home.

'There is a part of the house at the back that isn't used for anything.' She looked at him, 'it would make an annex, suitable for a manager of a farm, somewhere he could go over the accounts or rotas, without using the study if the owner was busy. There are two rooms upstairs, one would make a bedroom, one a bathroom. Also, there is only myself and Mrs S who live in the house, I'm sure Edward has made the cabin his,' she grimaced, 'I really should have a man around, just in case...'

'I see,' he slid off his horse and guided them both into the stables, where he helped her down holding her longer than he usually did, though she had noticed her had always made absolutely sure she was steady on her feet before he let go, and that seemed to take longer each time. 'It would be more comfortable than the creek,' he grinned, 'and I suppose you're right, a manager should not sleep in the bunkhouse.' He drew her into a passionate kiss.

She sighed as they parted, 'I best go in.'

'See you in the morning, Miss Emily,' he winked, 'if you want to go riding at night please let me know, it can be dangerous on your own.'

'Thank you Bill, I shall think about your recommendation.' She blew him a kiss and practically skipped into the house.

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So, what will Phryne think? Has she been up to her own night time wanderings?

Again thank you for all the lovely reviews.


	16. Chapter 16

Phryne stirred at Dot's touch on her shoulder.

'Miss,' she hissed, 'it's midnight.'

Phryne had asked Dot and the red raggers to wake her at this time so photographs could be taken. She was sure Edward had a male lover and that if she got the proof then Emily would have a bargaining chip should she ever need. it. She didn't like blackmail, but a little surety would be useful, Edward was a sneaky bastard, that much she did know. She had dressed in plain black trousers and a loose black sweater before she had settled to sleep, not wanting to waste time dressing when it came to going over to the cabin.

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They did not see Emily riding out to the creek, the stables were the other side of the house and near the cattle barns. Cec and Bert had appropriated a ladder from somewhere in order to take a picture through the bedroom window.

'Listen,' Phryne pulled everyone into a huddle, 'what you see through the window will probably disgust you, and for that I apologise. I'd take the picture myself but...' she stroked the bump. 'Take two or three, just in case.'

'Right, miss.' Bert grimaced, he didn't hold with men like Edward, not that you could call him a man.

'Dot and Cec will hold the ladder,' Phryne's smile could be seen in the moonlight and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

She hoped the reflection through the window wouldn't affect the picture too much but silently thanked Edward for having the light on.

The clicking of the camera shutter was the only sound that broke the silence, Bert bobbed up three times then down again, just in case Edward and his lover had heard it, but they were too occupied to bother.

When he came down he spat into the ground in disgust,

'Miss Emily don't deserve that.' He snarled, 'dirty bugger.'

'Bert, thank you. You're right, both times.' Phryne whispered, 'come on, let's get back to the house and put that ladder back.'

'How will you have the pictures developed, miss?' Dot's face was pale, 'we haven't got your darkroom here.'

'The sight of the camera should be enough for now, but I'll do them when we get home.' Phryne patted her arm, 'at least as far as the negatives. I'm not wasting expensive photo paper on him unless it becomes necessary.'

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Emily crept up the stairs, smiling. She knew that they had taken chances out by the creek, remembering what Phryne had said on the ship. She wondered if it would be too late to organise some form of protection against pregnancy, and who should she talk to. Again Phryne would hold the answer.

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Phryne had only just got back into bed, having discussed the rest of the visit with Dot and the red raggers in the kitchen over cocoa laced with whisky for Cec and Bert who detailed what they had seen in town. Edward had met a man, young, well dressed, 'a toff', Cec grunted. They'd had trouble keeping up with them, not knowing the town, but had managed to follow them to a seedy boarding house down a back street. They waited for them to come out, and they did, looking satisfied.

'Probably couldn't wait until they got to the cabin,' Phryne mused.

'Can't Miss Emily divorce Edward?' Dot asked, even though it was against her church's teaching.

'If she did, she'd lose the farm.' Phryne smiled, if only it were that easy, 'she'd be out on her ear.'

'That's not fair,' her companion scowled, 'she does all the work, he'd run it into the ground in five minutes.'

'True and true,' Phryne nodded, 'but that's how it is.'

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She thought she heard something on the landing and slipped out of bed to open the door, her small pistol in her hand.

'Emily?' she opened to door wider to see her friend, still slightly damp from her dip in the water.

'Phryne, what are you doing awake?' Emily blushed scarlet. Phryne dragged her in to the room and looked her up and down. She held the simple dress closed with one hand, in the other was her cami-knicker.

'What _have_ you been up to?' She raised one eyebrow.

'Oh Phryne,' Emily sat down, heavily on the bed. 'I saw a light in the bedroom window of the cabin and went to see what was going on. Phryne...'

'I know,' she held up the camera, 'I didn't say anything until I had the proof, but what did you do?'

'I went in and up the stairs...' she told her what she had seen. 'I didn't know what to do, so I ran and took a horse. I went to the creek and...I was so sickened, I tore my dress taking it off and jumped in.'

'Emily!'

'Bill saw me, he heard me ride out and followed, he jumped in after me.' Emily wasn't quite sure what to say next, admit she had had extra marital relations with her farm manager, under the stars. 'Phryne he...' She flung herself backwards on the bed, 'Oh Phryne...' she sighed with pure happiness. '...it was wonderful!'

'Right,' Phryne contained her giggles, 'bath, then bed.'

'What?'

'Bath, you've got sand in your hair,' Phryne became practical, 'and you'll be sore and stiff if you don't. I don't expect he was particularly gentle?'

'No, and I didn't care, I feel so alive,' she sat up, 'I'm going to make an annex for him at the back of the house. He's a manager, he shouldn't sleep in the bunkhouse.'

'Right,' Phryne pulled her upright just as Dot, who had been disturbed by Emily's not so quiet declarations.

'Miss?'

'Oh Dot, we've disturbed you.'

'That's ok, can I help?'

'Can you run a bath for Emily, please.'

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After bathing and smoothing arnica on her emerging bruises, which she laughed at, they took her back to her room where Dot brushed her hair. She still wore it long and it was horribly tangled.

'Thank you, Dot.' Emily yawned as she slid under the covers, 'I hope I didn't shock you.'

'No Miss,' Dot smiled, 'Mrs Robinson has opened my eyes.' She turned out the light and wished her pleasant dreams.

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Emily knocked loudly on the cabin door.

'Edward, I know you're in there!' She shouted, 'come out, or I'm coming in.' She was emboldened with Phryne standing just out of sight and the red raggers at the back in case he decided to try and run.

'What do you want?' He snapped.

'Get dressed,' he was wearing a robe and nothing else. 'The solicitor is coming up.'

'What for?' He was like a sulky child.

'We are going to have an agreement over the farm and our living arrangements.' She stood firm, 'if you don't come up to the house, we will come down here and your sordid little affair will be made public.'

He swore, but agreed to be there in time.

The red raggers said they'd make sure he got there, keeping an eye on each door so he couldn't escape.

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'If you want to keep up appearances,' Phryne sat with Emily in the study, going over her notes for the agreement, 'then Edward needs to attend functions with you.'

Emily grimaced, 'Do you really think so? Couldn't I just say he's indisposed.'

'Not every time.' Phryne understood, 'if you have local dignitaries, if there are any, over to dine, for instance, then he will have to be with you.'

Emily slumped in her chair, 'I suppose so.' She sighed. 'Would it be acceptable for Bill to accompany me to any functions? It's not England, after all.'

'No, but people here can be just as stuffy, if not more so.' Phryne told her, 'Bill could attend if you have to have male escort and Edward is 'indisposed', would he mind?'

'I have no idea,' Emily admitted she hadn't even mentioned it. The only conversation she had had with Bill had been on the way back from the creek the previous night, all she knew is that they wanted each other and until the annex was sorted out they were going to find it awkward. She couldn't go to the bunkhouse and it would be noticed if he wasn't there. There again, they did ride out over the land frequently, perhaps they could find somewhere secluded in the trees. This brought to mind the idea of some sort of protection against pregnancy; for now, anyway. 'Phryne,' she reddened, 'on the ship, you mentioned something about protection, you know, about me getting pregnant.'

'Shall we talk later, about that.' Phryne smiled, 'perhaps after dinner.'

'Please.' Emily was embarrassed that she had to talk to a friend, not an old friend either, about something her mother should perhaps have mentioned, damn, she was so naive!

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Bill sat on his horse staring at the ground where he had, rather roughly, taken his employer's wife. She had enjoyed it, so had he, but it was a difficult situation to be in. He'd had girls during his life, though not one he could have seen himself marrying or being with for the rest of his life, but Emily was different. Quite a bit younger than him, trapped in a loveless, sexless marriage, clearly inexperienced but willing, oh was she willing! He wasn't sure if it would work, him living in the annex, but it would be a hell of a lot easier for them to be together, in secret. Then there was the other problem. Last night he hadn't been prepared, he always used a johnny, well nearly always, and he hadn't pulled out either, so if they were really unlucky...Hell!

He looked at his watch, she had asked him to be at the meeting with the solicitor because it affected him as well, and she felt safer with him supporting her against Edward. He best get back and wash up.

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The solicitor was a pleasant man in his forties. He had, he said prepared two agreements, slightly different to one another, and these he showed to Emily and Bill before Edward arrived.

The first made her solely responsible for the farm. It was unusual as women weren't usually allowed to hold property in their own names if they were married, but he had put in a declaration that Lord Dunstan was subject to bouts of melancholy that rendered him too unwell to administer a business. It was not an untruth, as such, he did get depressed, usually through drink, and then he was not well enough to administer the affairs of the farm. It also stipulated that her manager was to have signatory rights should Lady Dunstan be unwell or out of the country. Lord Dunstan was to have his own personal bank account with a monthly deposit from the main account to attend to his needs. He could live in the lodge and arrangements could be made for his domestic needs should he so wish.

The second was the same to start with, but there was an added stipulation that Lord Dunstan retain his signatory rights, but effectively, as a sleeping partner, and the manager had no right to sign cheques or accounts.

'I don't like the second agreement, I'm not willing to have Edward contemplate it.' Emily pushed those papers to one side. 'The first agreement is more than adequate, Edward will have his allowance to do with what he will and the farm will be safe.'

Bill was impressed with her stand, although he wasn't sure Edward would agree to him having signatory rights. He understood why she had done it, up to now he had advised her on purchasing livestock, selecting feed from the most reliable and cost effective suppliers, and organising the farm hands. They would see, he supposed.

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Phryne hadn't expected to be asked to stay during the meeting, but Emily said she would like her to just be there. So she sat in a chair by the window, apparently reading. Edward entered the room and stared at the assembled company, his wife, wearing a blue dress of fine cotton, a white cardigan, and flat blue pumps. She looked just as he expected her to, small, unsmiling. He knew he was the one who had taken her smile away, but really his father shouldn't have insisted he marry. Bill stood with the solicitor, clean shirt and riding breeches, boots well polished.

She approached him, he had dressed with care, but not in the clothes of a farmer, he was dressed as an English lord, fine grey suit, waistcoat, wing collared shirt perfectly tied tie of grey silk. He smelt of his usual cologne overlaid with whisky.

'Edward,' she nodded, 'thank you for coming. I'm sure this will help you to settle with the freedom to do what you want.' She stood aside and he sat down in one of the chairs at the desk.

He read the agreement in silence while Emily looked on nervously. Standing close to Bill she felt his hand in the small of her back, comforting warmth.

'Why are you doing this, Emily?' Edward looked up, now that he had come to the last paragraph.

'You have no interest in the farm, that is abundantly clear. You are happy to take funds from the bank which left me with no option but to replace that money with some of the legacy father settled on me when we married.' Emily leant on her hands over the desk, 'I'm the one looking after the farm, with the help of Mr Thompson. I want control of the business, you will have an allowance, the use of the cabin for as long as you live, but I will expect you to accompany me to certain functions when necessary. Otherwise we will not see each other.' She leant closer and whispered in his ear, '...and I will keep quiet about your lover.'

Edward blanched, 'you wouldn't?' He hissed back.

'I would, and I warn you, Edward,' she muttered, 'I have the evidence that will send you to prison for a very long time.'

Emily managed not to show just how sick she felt at her own behaviour, but it was the only way she could get through this, by being as ruthless as possible.

'The agreement is fair, Lord Dunstan.' The solicitor decided he'd better do something to earn his fee, 'you will be free to do as you will.'

Edward looked up, 'I suppose so.'

'Of course, it means you cannot meddle in my life, Edward.' She stood up and folded her arms, 'I will also be free to see who I want, whenever I want. Ours will be a marriage in name only, for appearances sake.'

Edward agreed to the arrangement, and to the allowance; he didn't even complain about Bill's part in the running of the farm. Not after Emily's threat.

He left immediately afterwards, with the new bank account details, Phryne thought he couldn't get out fast enough. A copy of the agreement was left with Emily and the solicitor took the other one.

Seeing that Emily was shaking with relief and that Bill was unsure as to how he should act with her in the room, Phryne closed her book and headed for the door.

'I'm just going to ring Jack, Emily.' She left them to it.

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As the door closed Emily's knees buckled; Bill caught her in his strong arms and pulled her close.

'Blimey, Em,' he murmured into her hair, 'you were bloody brilliant.' Normally he wouldn't address her so casually, but he was reeling from her strength, amazed she could be so ruthless.

'Was I, Bill?' She looked up and gripped his upper arms. 'I didn't like being like that. I didn't want to hurt him, he's a sad specimen.'

'Emily,' he pulled her to sit on his knee on the chair, 'I know it's going to be tough, you and me, but we'll get through it.' He'd made some decisions as he'd watched her deal with her husband, 'I've never met anyone like you, I don't know if it's love, but whatever it is I'm happy to keep it.'

'Oh Bill.' Emily curled into his chest and sighed. 'Bill?' She whispered after a while of just sitting there, 'you know last night?'

'Mmm...?'

'Well, I was going to ask Phryne about, well, some kind of protection against... But I should ask you first.' She pushed herself up and looked into his light grey eyes, 'you may want children, I do, eventually, but because of our situation, this has to be a joint decision.'

'It would be difficult for you, unless we were man and wife,' he smiled, 'and while he's still alive that's not going to happen, is it? You'd probably be marked as a scarlet woman, nobody would want to associate with you. But, if I was to become a father, then I would want it to be with you.'

'Thank you, Bill.' She leant forward and kissed him, 'perhaps we'd better take precautions for a while.'

'Well, in that case, I have some business in town,' he kissed her back, 'is there anything you need?'

Emily giggled, 'do I take that to mean I don't need to do anything?'

'Leave it to me.' He kissed the tip of her nose and she slid off his knee.

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Phryne stood at the end of the drive. Her phone call to Jack had him grab the keys to the Hispano and throw the small suitcase he'd had packed since the morning she'd left, into the back, and head out to Meredith.

She shielded her eyes from the sun as she heard the familiar roar of the engine and turned her back to the dust cloud he made as he pulled up sharp. He leaped out and before she had time to breath he was holding her in his arms, feeling the kicks of his unborn child and taking in her familiar scent of jasmine and the taste of her lips on his tongue. The kiss became deep, passionate and hungry.

'Hello, Mrs Robinson, are you well?' He teased.

'All the better for seeing you, Inspector,' she grinned.

'Well, perhaps I'd better drive you back up to the house and you can tell me everything that has happened.'

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'I missed you,' she said, simply, as she showed him their room.

'How much?' He stroked the side of her face, the fresh air had done her good, she looked very well, blooming, as Emily had remarked.

'Well,' she looked round, conspiratorially, 'as Dot is helping the red raggers sort out the Annex for Bill; tell you later; and Emily and Bill are out riding, 'I'll show you.' She proceeded to do just that, sliding her hands down the front of his jacket and pushing it off over his shoulders. As she pushed his braces down and ran her hands over his belt he leant over her bump and kissed her thoroughly, undoing the buttons of her dress then lifting it over her head. Standing in their underwear touching and kissing she felt the tip of his hardness touch her bump and heard a sharp intake of breath as the baby kick him, gently. Phryne giggled and pushed him back onto the bed, climbing onto him and wriggling against him.

Finally naked she ground against him and he thrust into her holding her hips, then her waist.

'Jack, I...' she gasped, 'oh god! Yes!' She arched back in release as he did a final thrust and groaned in pleasure.

'Hm...' he smirked, 'you did miss me, didn't you?'

They lay on their sides smiling, still touching and he stroked over the bump and she told him all about Emily and Bill, Edward and his lover, the agreement...

'It sounds as if everything has worked out well for Emily, at least.' He sighed, 'if Edward keeps to his side of the bargain she should have a good life.'

'Mmm...' he could see her eyes were growing heavy so he pulled the covers over them and they both fell asleep.

Dot looked through the door between her room and Phryne's and smiled. Obviously her mistress had welcomed her husband appropriately, something she was planning on doing to Hugh when she got back.

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Jack put their suitcases in the back of the car while Phryne said her goodbyes. Emily didn't need her around now and she really wanted to get back home.

'Look after her, Bill,' she smiled at the farm manager.

'She's stronger than she looks,' he put his arm round her, 'but I will make sure she's ok.'

'Good,' Phryne laughed, 'see that you do. Keep in touch, Emily, won't you?'

'I will, thank you, Phryne, for all you've done.' Emily kissed her cheek, 'now go and look after that precious bundle you're carrying.'

As they drove away, the red raggers and Dot in the car behind them, Phryne put her head on Jack's shoulder.

'Alright?' He asked, risking a quick look at her.

'Glad to be going home,' she sighed, 'I think I must be going soft.'

'Not you, love,' he mused, 'hormones, so Mac says.'

'Mmm.'

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Mr Butler opened the door as he heard the car draw up. It had certainly been quiet while his mistress was away.

'Mr Butler,' she grinned, 'how are you?'

'Very well, Mrs Robinson, thank you,' he smiled, 'and yourself?'

'Ticketty boo, thanks, glad to be home,' she sighed.

'Dinner in an hour, Miss?' He took the cases from Jack.

'Yes please, I'm going to have a bath, first.' She looked up at Jack, cheekily.

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A bath, complete with the attentions of her husband, had made Phryne feel relaxed and complete, then the dinner, which Mr Butler had prepared with care, settled her for the evening and she was content to curl up with a book and Jack until they went to bed.

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'The furniture for the nursery arrives tomorrow,' Phryne nestled against Jack's chest.

'Are you going to take it easy, now?' Jack stroked her face with his finger, 'cut down your workload.'

'Probably. Just the easy domestic cases, I think.' She took his hand and kissed his palm, 'but if you want any help...'

'...just not chasing crooks round the docks, eh?'

'I don't think I can move all that fast,' she giggled, 'I might make a better blocking device.'

'Don't even think about it,' he teased and ran his hand over the bump, feeling the little kicks. She shivered, any touch from Jack had her almost instantly aroused and she hummed with appreciation.

'I missed this,' he admitted, and felt her hand slide down his side and round over his arousal, he groaned, 'god how I missed this.'

Their lovemaking was slow and sensuous, as if discovering each other for the first time. He touched her and used his fingers to take her over the edge then let her straddle him and set her own rhythm until they both released together. He loved that, when it happened for them together, harmony.

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He left her sleeping, she needed to after admitting she hadn't slept well at Emily's. He had to go to work and she would, during the day, organise the nursery with Dot and the red raggers, and he had suggested Mac join her for lunch, just to make sure she had suffered no ill effects from wandering about at night.

It didn't matter why he suggested she invite Mac for lunch, she enjoyed the doctor's company. They had been friends for so many years, they knew each other inside out.

Phryne was just finishing her coffee when the nursery things arrived. Cec and Bert had already settled themselves in the kitchen availing themselves of Mr Butler's hospitality and Dot had moved the layette into the master bedroom to clear the way.

'Mornin' mum.' One of the men tipped his cap, 'where d'ye want it?'

'Up here,' she smiled and headed up the stairs to stand outside the empty room.

Each piece was carried up and placed where Phryne thought it should go, Cec and Bert were on hand if she changed her mind afterwards. The wardrobe fitted nicely in an alcove by the chimney breast, the chest of drawers the other side. The cot, once assembled would sit on the opposite side of the room, the baby bath, made to her specifications sat under the window. With its top on it looked like a table and at one end was a set of drawers for the baby's toiletries and the nappies and towels. On castors it was easily moveable, and Dot had suggested that when she used it, it might be better if it was pulled in front of the fire.

'Where do you want the bassinet, miss?' Dot stood next to her.

'Um,' Phryne thought, 'do you think it might be best in our room, Dot?' She looked at her companion, 'so I can just pick her up for night feeds.'

Dot raised her eyebrows, Mrs Robinson had been thinking, obviously.

'I suppose so.' Dot hadn't actually thought about that herself, 'until she sleeps through.' She had also noticed the baby had acquired a gender, but 'it' wasn't a nice thing to call a baby, was it?

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Mac stood in the doorway to the nursery and smiled.

'It looks great, sweetie,' she put her arm round her, 'all you need is a nursing chair.'

'Will you come with me to help me choose one?' Phryne looked at the most unlikely person to choose a nursing chair, and yet the most likely to get it right.

'Love to,' Mac patted her arm, 'after lunch. You need to eat, and so do I.'

'Perfect.'

Mac was happy to see her friend still ate well and was obviously enjoying her food. She was still sure that at some point she would wake and find it was all a very weird dream.

Mr Butler drove them into town to look at nursing chairs,

'Letting someone else drive your beloved Hispano, darling,' Mac settled next to her in the back.

'I find it uncomfortable, if I have the seat close enough to reach the pedals the wheel rubs on the bump,' Phryne smiled ruefully, 'far enough to accommodate it I can't reach properly. Mr Butler is a good driver, even going a little faster than he should.' She added the last in a whisper.

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Phryne headed into the same shop she had bought the rest of the furniture from and thanked the owner for having it delivered and for the name of the man who had made the baby bath for her.

'You're most welcome, madam.' She nodded, 'now, what can I do for you today?'

'I'm looking for a nursing chair, or at least one that I can sit in to feed the baby.'

'You need one that will support your back, Phryne,' Mac interrupted, 'a good sitting position makes it easier to feed.'

'We have several, some that are rockers, so not,' she was shown the display, 'why don't I leave you to try out a few. See which one suits you best.'

'Thank you.'

Phryne and Mac got a little silly trying out chairs. Especially the ones that had sprung rockers. Phryne said one was so strong she would be catapulted out of it. In the end she chose one that rocked on proper rockers, was well upholstered and supported her back. In fact it was so comfortable she said she'd stay for a while and have a nap!

'Come on, Mrs Robinson,' Mac held her hand out, 'get your cheque book out and let's get you home, for a proper sleep.'

'Very well, doctor.' Phryne smiled, 'thanks for coming with me, Mac. I hate doing this kind of shopping on my own.'

'My pleasure, darling.' Mac kissed her cheek, 'we only want the best for you, though I still think I'm dreaming.'

'Ha ha,' the mother to be laughed and baby Robinson kicked in agreement.

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I think she has everything she needs. It's been a long time since I bought my baby things.

Again, thank you for all the lovely reviews, they are more than encouraging. You may have to put up with my ramblings for a while yet!


	17. Chapter 17

Mr Butler noticed his mistress looked pale as he escorted her from the car. He had brought her back from a client's house, where she had wrapped up her latest case. It had been a difficult one for her, a missing child, a boy of five. The phone call had made her go cold,

'Miss Fisher?'

'Yes,' Phryne had answered quickly when the phone rang, 'can I help you?'

'Oh I do hope so, I hear good reports about you,' the voice on the end of the line breathed a sigh of relief.

Phryne hoped it wasn't too taxing a case, she'd four weeks to go at the most, and, although Mac said she was still amazingly healthy she should really be resting up and not gallivanting over Melbourne sorting out other people's problems. Maybe it would be one for Dot, but she was only three months behind her in the pregnancy stakes.

'It's my little boy,' the woman at the other end of the line gasped, 'he's gone missing.'

Mrs Robinson (Miss Fisher, on a case) felt sick.

'Have you called the police?'

'Yes, and they've scoured the place, he can't have left the house or grounds, he's only five.' Tears started, 'please help me.'

Phryne cursed under her breath,

'Can you, first of all, tell me who you are.' She tried to sound calm and not knotted up inside, which she actually was.

'Sorry, I'm forgetting my manners...'

'Understandable.'

'Mrs Elizabeth Foster.' The so named introduced herself, and gave her address in a relatively affluent area of Melbourne, a good hour's drive from the Robinson residence. Phryne groaned, silently. 'My son is Cornelius,' poor child, thought the Lady Detective, she really must tackle Jack on possible names for the child currently kicking hell out of her rib cage. She rubbed her side. 'Have you looked under the bed, in wardrobes..?'

'Everywhere.' Mrs Foster was sobbing, 'he's our only child...'

'Right, I'll come over.' Phryne hoped Mr Butler wouldn't mind driving her. At least Junior would be still on the journey, the motion seemed to send her to sleep.

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Elizabeth Foster, a possibly pretty woman, hard to tell with the red nose and red ringed, puffy eyes, was standing at the door, wringing her hands.

'Oh Miss Fisher,' she rushed over and grabbed her hand before Phryne had alighted from the car, 'I'm so glad to see you.' She didn't seem to notice Phryne's advanced state of gestation, or if she did she chose to ignore it.

In the living room, over decorated with fussy frills and fripperies, and overstuffed chairs that Phryne was sure she would never be able to rise from should she choose to sit, Mrs Foster showed her a photograph of a little boy with blond ringlets dressed like a Little Lord Fauntleroy. He was a lovely looking child, if she ignored the clothes, and he could do with a more boyish haircut. Spoiled, fawned over, protected, she thought.

'Can you show me his room, please,' Phryne smiled, she hoped, comfortingly, 'and I'd like to speak to the staff.'

'There's the housekeeper,' she escorted her guest up the stairs, 'and his nanny of course, and the tweeny.'

Phryne hadn't heard that expression for years, she didn't even realise people employed anyone in that position and referred to them thusly.

The nursery was expensively and generously equipped. A large bed dominated the room, so big Phryne half expected to find the boy hidden under the mound of eiderdown and blankets, cocooned in the silk sheets. Silk! For a child! Madness! Dot said children were best in cotton, and while her mistress luxuriated in silk and satin sheets she also revelled in a freshly laundered crisp cotton sheet, especially in hot weather. She flung back the covers but found nothing save a discarded teddy bear. She went through the wardrobes and even the larger drawers in the chest, trying not to show her amazement at the array of frankly, even for The Honourable Phryne Fisher, ridiculously expensive clothes. There again she had been dressed in second hand, patched dresses when she was a child.

The housekeeper, a pleasantly plump woman who was obviously in the middle of some baking, said she hadn't seen young Master Cornelius since breakfast.

'Did he seem alright?' Miss Fisher asked.

'Oh yes, miss.' She bobbed, 'he ate his porridge like a good boy, with honey, that's how the young master likes it, drank his orange juice and had some toast.'

'...and afterwards?'

'Nanny took him for his lessons.' The housekeeper, bobbed again, 'always after breakfast he starts his lessons, then he has lunch, then a walk, in the grounds.'

'Thank you,' Phryne smiled, 'that's most helpful.'

The housekeeper bobbed again and left then nursery.

Nanny Moody; by name and by nature by the look of her, Phryne thought; stood with her hands clasped in front of her and her mouth in a thin line. Her hair was greying and drawn into a tight bun at the nape of the neck. She wore a black dress, old fashioned and plain.

'Where did you last see Cornelius?' Phryne asked, without preamble.

'In the school room, madam.' Nanny said, tersely. 'I left him to finish his arithmetic for a few moments but when I came back to the room he had gone.'

'Show me.' Phryne discretely rubbed the side of her stomach again, in an effort to calm her unborn child.

The school room had one desk in it, maps and educational pictures on the wall, his arithmetic book open on the floor where it had fallen. The window was locked, there were no loose panels hiding secret passages, the only way out was through the door.

'Where were you when he disappeared?' They stood on the landing outside the schoolroom. The passage led along past other rooms to the left and, to the right, the stairs.

'I went to Mrs Foster's room,' she pointed to a door two down from the schoolroom, 'to fetch a bon-bon from the tray for him, a reward for working hard.' Phryne could see that this kind of reward was not approved of by Nanny Moody.

'Did you tell him that was where you were going?' Phryne was beginning to like young Cornelius Foster, and hoped to meet him very soon.

'Of course,' Nanny looked horrified she would leave her charge without an explanation.

Phryne looked around, calculating how long it would take for Nanny to get into Mrs Foster's room, take a bon-bon, probably one for herself as well, and return. She was betting the young lad had worked out he had ample time to escape into the grounds, which were quite extensive.

'I think we need to go for a walk in the fresh air,' she smiled.

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Phryne looked round at the gardens, the ponds, and over to a lake surrounded by trees in the near distance. Right, Cornelius, she thought, which tree are you up?

She cradled her bump with one arm as they strolled towards the lake, insisting they didn't hurry, she couldn't anyway, but that it might make the boy run, and with the lake there...

Mrs Foster immediately started wailing at her thoughts of her darling child floating in the lake. Phryne rolled her eyes, she knew exactly where the little tyke was, and she didn't blame him!

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Phryne stood taking in the vista, shielding her eyes from the sun, looking at the different trees. Which is easiest to climb? She wondered. She heard a rustling overhead.

'Hmm...Cornelius, time to come down now.' She called lightly, as if it was a game, which, to the boy, it was.

'No!'

She sat on a nearby bench.

'Oh Cornelius!' His mother wailed, 'darling, are you stuck?'

'No!'

'A boy of few words,' Phryne noted.

'If you fall...' Mrs Foster looked most overcome.

'Nanny,' Phryne addressed the only other person there, 'would you take Mrs Foster back inside, I have a mind to sit and take in the view.' She looked directly at the woman with her, 'don't argue with me' face on. Jack knew it well!

Nanny opened and closed her mouth like a codfish but did as asked. After all, one didn't argue with an 'Honourable'.

If she had not been pregnant the Lady Detective would have joined Cornelius in the tree, but she was, and so had to content herself with sitting and thinking about how to get the child down.

'I bet you've got a wonderful view from up there, Cornelius.' She commented.

'Don't call me that!' He snapped from somewhere above her head.

'It's your name.' Phryne reminded him.

'I hate it!'

'Oh, do you have any others?'

'Frederick.' He grumbled.

'Then I shall call you Freddy.' She smiled up into the tree. 'I like Freddy.'

'Ok,' he agreed, warily. 'What's your name?'

'Phryne.'

'That's a strange name.' He sat on the branch above her, considering this woman who didn't seem to mind in the least that he was up a tree in a velvet suit. 'I like it.' He declared.

'Well, thank you.' She laughed, 'I've rather got used to it, over the years.'

There was a silence for a while, apart from Freddy rustling the leaves.

'I can see right across Melbourne from here.' He informed her. 'Where do you live?'

'St Kilda, on the Esplanade.' She said, 'I can walk to the ocean from my front door.'

'Do you?' He asked, 'do you go and paddle in the sea. Mother won't let me.'

'I swim in the sea, sometimes.' She smiled, thinking she hadn't for a while.

'Wow!'

More rustling.

'Phryne?' He was leaning precariously from his perch now. 'I think I'll come down now.'

'Alright, if you're ready.' She stayed where she was but out of the corner of her eye she watched him expertly swing himself between the branches then drop and land neatly at her feet.

'Why are you so fat?' He stood observing her.

'I'm going to have a baby.' She answered his question hoping he wouldn't get too inquisitive.

'When?'

'Very soon.'

'Oh.' He thought, 'do you like to climb trees?'

'I do, I used to be rather good.'

'When you've had your baby, will you come and climb trees with me?'

'I'd love to,' but she thought it sad he was so lonely he had to ask a strange woman to climb trees with him, 'but maybe you should ask some boys of your own age.'

'I don't know any.'

'Oh.' She smiled and held out her hand to him, 'I'm sorry.'

'It's not your fault,' Freddy took her hand and sat next to her, 'Mother says other boys are rough and un...un...' He scratched his head.

'...uncouth?'

'That's it.' He nodded. 'What does it mean?'

'It means they don't have manners.' She brushed some leaves out of his ringlets. 'I think we'd better go in, now. Show your mother you are alright.'

Freddy jumped off the bench, revealing a rip in his britches and in his socks. He held out his hand for her and they walked hand in hand to the house. He told her how he didn't like having to stay inside all the time or just walk outside round the gardens. He wanted to climb trees and learn to swim and kick a ball.

'Will you let your baby do things like that?' He skipped beside her.

'When it's big enough, yes.'

'Even if it's a girl?'

'Well, yes.' Phryne squeezed his hand, ' _I_ did.'

'I think you'll be a great mother.' He announced simply and she noticed tears stung her eyes at his faith in her, a person he barely knew.

'Thank you, Freddy,' she looked down at him, 'I'll do my best.'

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Mrs Foster grabbed her boy and held him so tight he could hardly breathe.

'Oh my darling!' she wept, 'what were you doing?'

'Mrs Foster,' Phryne touched her shoulder, 'Mrs Foster I think Freddy would like to be able to breathe.'

'His name is Cornelius.' She straightened, not taking her hand off his arm.

'He prefers Freddy.' Phryne murmured.

'I do, mother,' he nodded, enthusiastically.

'Oh.' She looked shocked, 'still, up a tree, oh my darling.'

'Freddy,' Phryne touched his head, 'why don't you go with tweeny and get cleaned up. I'm going to talk to your mother.'

'Thank you, Phryne,' Freddy smiled, 'I like you, please come again.' He took tweeny's hand and skipped up the stairs with her.

'Mrs Foster,' Phryne smiled at the woman, now much calmer. 'He's a little boy. He needs to climb trees, kick a ball, paddle in the sea. He needs friends of his own age.'

'But all the other boys are not of our social level,' she gasped, 'and he'll get hurt, climbing trees.'

'Yes he will, he'll get bumps and bruises, cuts and grazes. He'll learn to accept people for who they are, not who their parents are.' Phryne smiled, fancy the Honourable Phryne Fisher giving parenting advice, 'and when he meets then he'll understand that we are all the same and we can rise and fall depending on circumstances.'

'How can you know?' She sniffed.

'I was born in Collingwood,' Phryne admitted, 'I was lucky, but the men who died in the war so my father could succeed to the title weren't. I'm one of the lucky ones, but my child will climb trees and run around, because I want it to be happy, nothing else.'

'Thank you, Miss Fisher,' Mrs Foster finally smiled, 'perhaps you're right.'

'Oh, Mrs Foster,' Phryne shook her hand as she got back into the car, 'get him some clothes he can play in, and perhaps have his hair cut. Keep a ringlet as a memory.'

As they drove down the drive she heard Freddy calling after her,

'Phryne! Phryne!'

'Stop a minute Mr B, please,'

'Phryne,' the breathless little boy panted, 'remember, come and climb trees with me, one day.'

'I will, Freddy, I'm looking forward to it.'

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Phryne asked Mr Butler if he could make her some tea and then she would go upstairs for a nap. Her back ached, she supposed from walking to the lake to find Freddy, who, she found, she adored.

Mr Butler brought a tray into the parlour with tea, scones, jam and cream and a plate of chicken and salad.

'Mrs Robinson,' he smiled gently, 'you missed lunch, perhaps...'

'Oh Mr B.' She sighed and picked up the chicken, 'you are a saint. Thank you.'

'Will that be all, miss?'

'For now,' she swallowed, 'thank you.'

She made short work of the food and the tea and instantly felt a lot better, missing children and an empty stomach didn't go well together, she noted. Stretching she thought she would go and lie down for a while, think of names to tempt Jack with, boys and girls. Something Shakespearean, she thought.

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Dot had taken the day to do some of her own shopping, so she had laid out a cotton nightdress for her mistress for her afternoon nap, and a pair of black trousers and white silk blouse for later, when she was dining with Jack. She stripped and washed her makeup off, applied a little light moisturising cream and donned her nightdress, before slipping between the cool cotton sheets. In less than two minutes she was fast asleep.

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Jack arrived in time for a bath before dinner. It had been a messy day, the crooks he had chased through the dock area had finally been caught because they slipped on some fish waste and fell into the water. They had to be dragged out by a couple of young constables, but had put up a big enough fight for Jack to get some rubbish on his coat and trousers. He knew he was less than fragrant and not even Mr Butler could hide his feelings, though he did try.

'Sorry, Mr Butler,' he smiled, 'a bit of a tussle at the docks.'

'Of course, sir,' Mr B replied, 'I'll arrange for your suit and coat to be cleaned.'

'Thank you,' Jack shrugged out of his coat, is Phryne about?'

'She is upstairs, sir, resting.'

Jack headed up to bathe and greet his wife. On entering the room she appeared to be still sleeping so he tiptoed over and kissed her lightly on the head, before heading to the bathroom to shower. He'd have a bath later, he just needed to get the stench of old fish off, and that was mainly on his clothing.

He turned off the shower and wrapped a towel round his waist, then stopped, there was a definite groan from the bedroom.

'Phryne?' He went to the bedside, quickly. 'Phryne.' He touched her shoulder and she turned her head.

'Jack,' she inhaled deeply, 'you're back.' She turned over carefully and held his hand. 'You've showered without me.' She pouted.

'You were asleep.' He leant over and kissed her lips, 'I didn't want to wake you.'

'I had a case today,' she let him help her into a reclining position against the pillows. 'a little boy went missing.'

'Oh, where?'

'Only an hour away, Mr B drove.' She smiled, 'I found him, hiding in a tree.' She laughed, then gasped, 'he was so sweet. He wants me to climb trees when I can.'

He smiled but the gasp hadn't gone unnoticed.

'You're in pain, aren't you?' He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

'Occasionally and only a little.' She admitted. 'I suppose it's going to go on for a while, before it gets going properly. Mac did warn me.'

They had discussed this at length, and he agreed she should tell him when she wanted Mac, if she wanted a drink or something to eat.

'Right,' he moved to sit next to her and put his arm round her, 'you tell me what you need.'

'Thank you, but you need dinner, first.' She turned her head and kissed his shoulder.

'Are you hungry?'

'Mmm...' she thought, 'I think I could eat something.'

'Do you feel up to going to the dining room or shall I ask Mr Butler if he can put it on trays?'

'I think,' she mused, 'that as long as I don't shock Mr B, I'd like to go down, but I shan't get dressed, just my robe.'

'Then I shall too,' he smiled, 'I'll just put some pyjamas on and my dressing gown on, then help you.'

'I can put my own robe on,' she teased, 'I just might be a bit slow, that's all.'

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Mr Butler didn't bat an eyelid when his mistress and her husband arrived in the dining room in their nightwear. Jack explained that Phryne was experiencing some occasional pains so they would retire immediately after dinner.

'I shall be available to make any calls you need, Mrs Robinson,' he smiled, 'and don't worry about waking me, I doubt I shall sleep.'

'Thank you, Mr B.' Phryne winced again, 'you are a treasure.'

'I'll just ring the station,' Jack settled her in a chair at the table, 'tell them I won't be in tomorrow, or the next day, perhaps.' He winked.

Phryne was eating, rather, nibbling some vegetables when he returned. She felt she ought to eat, keep her strength up, but also felt slightly nauseous. She sipped some iced water and reached for some bread. Jack watched her. He hated to see her in any discomfort and when he could do nothing about it, it was worse. She reached round to rub her back and looked up at him, smiling weakly.

'Can I do anything?' He sat next to her.

'Rub my back.' She whispered, 'that helps.'

He ate with one hand and rubbed her back with the other, watching her try to eat something.

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She wondered how he could be so patient with her, over the hours she had asked for the gramophone to be brought up, demanded certain pieces of music to be played, even asked him to dance with her, all of which he did with good grace, after all, it was partly his fault.

Hugh had told Dot that Mrs Robinson appeared to have started her labour so she had kissed her young husband and asked him to take her over to Wardlow, where she would stay until the offspring arrived. She stayed in a room next to their room and periodically took in cool water and a cloth, helped Phryne change her nightdresses, cotton ones only, helped Jack change the cotton sheets on the bed and closed her ears as Phryne swore like a docker. Even Jack blushed. As the pains became closer and they were thinking of calling Dr Macmillan, Phryne felt more comfortable standing, leaning her forehead against Jack's chest and swaying in time to the music playing.

'Dot.' Phryne grunted, after one particularly sharp contraction, 'perhaps you could call Mac for me.'

'Of course, Miss, I shan't be long.' Dot went quickly down the stairs, only to find Mr Butler sitting in the dining room with a pot of tea, unable to sleep. He looked up at her and she smiled back.

'Dr Macmillan.' Dot didn't panic, Miss seemed calm and so should she be, 'Mrs Robinson is in labour and has asked if you would attend.'

Mac rubbed her eyes, trust Phryne to need her in the middle of the night. She'd had a trying day as it was, but it was Phryne so...

'Have her waters broken?' She asked.

Dot was about to answer in the negative when she heard a shout from upstairs, 'I think they just did.'

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'I'll be there as soon as I can be.' Mac put the phone down and went to pull on a shirt and trousers over her pyjamas, no time for sartorial elegance tonight. She grabbed her bag and headed off to Wardlow.

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Phryne was standing in front of Jack, feet apart to avoid standing in too much of the puddle, scarlet with embarrassment as another contraction took hold with a vengeance.

'It's ok, miss,' Dot came back, 'you move over here, where I've put towels down.' She stood aside and picked up the rug Phryne had been standing on and put it to the side of the room. She could deal with that later.

'I'm sorry.' Phryne whispered, 'I should have gone to the bathroom.'

'It's your waters, miss.' Dot stroked her back, 'you haven't disgraced yourself.'

Jack gently waltzed her over to the towels that Dot had spread by the bed, where she also had put towels for the actual birth. He was surprised that, apart from her initial cursing, she was now just groaning every time a contraction hit, and they were coming very fast now, he thought; but what did he know.

'Jack,' she gasped, 'we haven't discussed names.'

'I expect you have already thought of something, entirely unsuitable.' he teased.

'Cheek,' she puffed, 'I thought of Portia, for a girl.'

'Mmm...' he kissed her head as he felt her tighten her grip on his shoulders. 'Nice idea. How about Katharine for a middle name, after all...'

'Taming of the Shrew,' she grunted, 'Aargh!'

'Phryne Fisher!' Mac burst into the room having been let in by the ever watchful Mr Butler. 'Always in such a bloody hurry!' She shrugged off her jacket and pulled on a white gown and gloves.

'Lo Mac.' Phryne muttered. 'What about a boy, Jack?' She gritted her teeth as another pain wound round her middle.

'Hm..' he waltzed on the spot with her, 'Benedict?'

'Can we stop thinking of names?' Mac pursed her lips, 'Phryne I want to examine you, see how close you are, darling. I need you on the bed.'

Jack sat behind her, holding her hands across her breasts, as Mac gently probed. He watched the doctor's expression and was relieved to see nothing that worried him.

'Phryne,' Mac replaced her gloves with some fresh ones, 'next contraction I want you to push, you are ready to deliver your baby, I can feel the crown of the head.'

'Jack?'

'I'm here, I'm not going anywhere,' he kissed her head and allowed her to grip his hands. 'You're doing so well, I'm so proud of you.' He continued to tell her how much he loved her as she pushed and squeezed his hands until he almost lost feeling.

'Bloody hell!' she breathed, pushing again.

'Hate me yet?' He whispered.

'Never.'

'One more push, sweetie,' Mac continued to keep a check on the 'business end,' 'here's the head. Good girl, another one and she'll be here.'

'Mac...'

'I know you're tired, but it's nearly over, you can do it.'

The sunlight was peeping through a gap in the curtains when Portia Katharine Fisher Robinson made her, rather noisy, entrance into the world.

'Well done,' Mac grinned, 'you have a daughter, Inspector and Mrs Robinson, congratulations, she's beautiful.'

Phryne would say, later, that 'beautiful' wasn't the adjective she would use to describe her daughter, more, red faced and cross.

Jack's grip on her tightened just enough for her to feel his pride. 'You clever girl,' he whispered, 'thank you.'

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Both of his girls washed, dressed and settled, Jack went to speak to Mac.

'Is everything alright, doctor?' He asked, Phryne was exhausted but had tried to put the baby to her breast, fairly successfully it had to be said, before Dot had tucked them both up, the baby in the bassinet by the bed.

'Absolutely fine,' Mac grinned, 'I am impressed with the both of you, but no other father is going to be present at the birth, not in my lifetime.'

'Do I need to know anything?'

'Plenty,' the doctor looked at him, he was almost as tired as his wife, 'but for now, you need to rest. You can share the bed, as if you have any choice, but no intimacy until I have done my post natal checks and am satisfied she has recovered, fully.'

'Does Phryne know about that?' He smirked.

'I'll be over later and talk to her.'

'Thank you, Mac,' Jack shook her hand, formally, 'for everything, for putting up with this, for always being there.' He bent and kissed her cheek.

'It has been my absolute pleasure, my dear Inspector.' It was nice to be appreciated by the husband, they usually rushed passed her, ignoring all she had done for their wives comforts.

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Mr Butler had waited patiently outside the bedroom. He had heard the cry of the newborn and all his resolve to wait until called had almost deserted him.

'I think you can go in, Mr Butler.' Mac smiled as she left the room. 'All is well.'

'I shall see you out first, doctor.' He nodded.

'Rot!' She grinned, 'I can open and close a door.' She bounced down the stairs and out of the door, feeling a real sense of joy and wellbeing.

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Mr Butler knocked and waited to be admitted.

'Come in Mr B.' Jack put his finger to his lips and nodded over to the bed, where Phryne lay asleep, still pink from her exertions.

'Sir,' the older man smiled, 'may I be the first to offer my sincere congratulations.'

'Thank you, come and meet Portia.' Jack went to the bassinet and picked the baby out, cradling her as if he had been doing it all his life. His heart burst with pride and he wanted to shout from the rooftops.

Mr Butler reached over and uncurled a tiny fist, placing a coin minted that year in her palm.

'For luck, sir,' he murmured. 'Though I doubt she will need it.' He folded the little fingers over it.

'That is so very thoughtful of you, Mr B.' Jack smiled, then turned to Dot. 'Dorothy, go and get some rest, you must be shattered. I'll ring Hugh, I have to ring my mother and telegram Phryne's parents.'

'Don't forget Mrs Stanley,' Dot whispered, tiptoeing out of the room, trying hard not to yawn.

'Of course not, I daren't,' he teased.

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Jack's mother held the receiver away from her ear and looked at it, had her son just said what she thought he'd said?

'Mother, Mother.' He called again, 'are you still there?'

'Sorry, dear,' she sat in the chair by the phone, 'a girl?'

'Yes,' he sighed, 'four hours ago. They're both well, Portia Katharine, seven pounds.' He wished she had had chance to meet Phryne, but the weekend she had been invited his nephew had gone down with chickenpox and she didn't want her daughter in law to catch it. Time had passed and they hadn't got round to organising it again, though Violet Robinson had spoken to Phryne on numerous occasions.

'Oh darling, that's wonderful!' Violet smiled, 'I will be over as soon as I can. If you want me to come?' She had a sudden thought that Phryne was a rather modern and independent woman and may not want her mother in law interfering, though she'd try not to.

'Please do come, I'm sure Phryne would welcome the help and advice.'

'I'm not giving advice,' Mrs Robinson, senior, huffed, 'I want to see my granddaughter.'

'I know.' He signed off saying he had several calls to make.

Jane was next to be informed and he could see her in his mind jumping up and down for joy, as she squealed down the phone.

'I'll have the red raggers pick you up after school, today.' He grinned through his tiredness which was rapidly catching up on him, 'you can stay overnight.'

'Thanks Jack,' She gasped, 'give my love to Miss Phryne and a kiss to the bab.'

'Will do.'

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'Stanley residence.'

'May I speak to Mrs Stanley, please,' Jack sat down on the bottom step and waited. It was a bit early for Aunt Prudence to be awake.

'Prudence Stanley,' really they must learn to ask who's calling she thought, 'oh, Jack, what's the matter, what has Phryne done now?'

'Given birth,' He laughed, 'good morning Mrs Stanley, we have a daughter.'

Prudence sank into the chair, 'A girl? Oh my word. Is everything alright?'

'Everything is perfect, your niece was wonderful. A long labour, but Portia Katharine was born four hours ago, a healthy seven pounds with a good set of lungs.' He couldn't wipe the smile off his face, in fact it got bigger with every call he made.

In her hall Mrs Stanley smiled and cried happy tears.

'Congratulations, Jack.' She sniffed, 'give my love to Phryne, I expect she's resting...'

'...she is.'

'I will come over in the next day or so, but for now I will leave her to settle to motherhood.' Prudence kept him for a little small talk, how long was he going to stay away from the station? Did they need anything?

'As long as she wants me, but probably a week, then running back and to, and no, thanks, we have everything at the moment.'

He made further calls to Hugh and the red raggers then headed upstairs to rest, next to Phryne, just in case she needed anything.

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Chivers opened the door to the boy.

'Telegram for Lord and Lady Fisher.' He waited for a tip, and received two pennies for his trouble.

Lady Fisher took the slim envelope off the tray and opened it,

'Henry,' she looked over at her husband, 'Henry, we're grandparents, look!' She held the telegram out:

'Portia Katharine STOP 7lbs STOP Both well STOP Jack STOP'

'Bloody hell!' He exclaimed, 'Phryne, a mother. The world will never cope.'

'Henry! I'm sure she'll be a wonderful mother. I think it's time to schedule a visit.' She stood up and swept out to start preparing for a long voyage to their homeland.

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I think I'll leave the new mother to rest for a while, more to come, if you would like me to continue.


	18. Chapter 18

Sorry it's taken so long to update the story, the muse took a holiday! So here is a domestic chapter to keep you going, with the hint of a case for our sleuths.

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Mac was as good as her word and called in the evening to see how Phryne and Portia were. Before she went up to the bedroom she spoke to Jack, to see how she had been during the day.

'She slept for a while after you left but Portia woke her for a feed,' Jack smiled, 'since then, she has dozed between feeds, eaten breakfast, and lunch, and had a bath. So far she seems alright.'

'I'll pop up and give her a quick check.' Mac said, 'I don't have any worries, the birth went well and the baby is healthy and a good weight.'

She found the new mother sitting up in bed feeding her daughter. That was the only change in the room, that, and the bassinet by the bed.

'Hello, Phryne,' she leant over and kissed her cheek, 'how are you feeling?'

'Well, thank you.' Phryne smiled, 'a little tired, I suppose, she's a greedy little madam.'

'How often are you feeding her?' Mac checked that she was latched on properly, more for Phryne's comfort than anything, and as she did so, the baby raised her arm and lay her tiny hand on the doctor's arm.

'When she wants.' Phryne looked at her friend, 'that is alright, isn't it? I mean it's not as if she has to wait for me to make it.'

Mac laughed, 'Perfectly fine. She'll get into her own routine.'

'When am I allowed to get out of bed?' Phryne asked, not used to being confined her room, much less her bed.

'Well, usually you'd be in hospital for three weeks at the least,' Mac sat on the edge of the bed, 'but I don't suppose you'll take any notice of my recommendations.'

Phryne's eyebrows had shot up into her fringe at the thought of staying in bed for three weeks.

'Oh Mac,' she whined, 'please, I'll go mad.'

'One week in bed, with me seeing you every day.' Mac held her free hand. 'Then maybe, if you're a good girl, I'll let you go down to the parlour.'

'What does, 'being a good girl' constitute?' Phryne had to admit to herself that Mac was being very generous with her time and care.

'Not much, really,' Mac grinned. 'Carry on eating well; that way you'll produce enough milk for Portia; rest, you can read if you want, you can have visitors.'

'I had a bath earlier, was that ok? Only I felt rather sweaty and less than fragrant.' Phryne was worried she had done things that would do her or the baby harm.

'None of your usual bath salts. Plain water and not too long a soak.' Mac sighed, it probably wouldn't do her any physical harm and her mental wellbeing was as important if not more so.

'Anything else I'm not allowed?' Jack had told her Mac had advised against intimacy until she was certain she was healed completely, but she wanted to hear this from the doctor.

'No sex.' Mac had always been straight talking with her closest friend, 'sorry. You probably don't feel like it anyway.'

'Not at this precise moment, no.' Phryne giggled, 'but you never know when I might get the urge to pounce on my husband.'

'Your body needs to heal first,' Mac laughed with her, 'usually twelve weeks.' And with that she hurried out of the room closing the door as a pillow flew through the air accompanied by Phryne calling out,

'Spoilsport!'

'See you tomorrow!' Mac called back and headed down the stairs, grinning.

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Violet Robinson stood on the platform looking around for someone to make themselves known to her. Jack had said he would arrange for her to be collected from the station. Phryne had been delighted when he had said she would like to visit, and as Mac had said she could have visitors had suggested she come to them towards the end of the week. She could stay as long as she wanted.

A sign caught her eye, 'ROBINSON', in a less than educated hand, but still most readable.

'Hello,' she smiled at the man holding the sign, 'I'm Violet Robinson. Are you here to take me to Wardlow?'

'Yes m', Cec grinned, definitely the Inspector's mother, the eyes said that. About Miss Fisher's height, thick auburn hair in an elegant chignon, lightly made up, stylish coat and hat, couldn't be anyone else.

'Carry your case, ma'am?' Bert appeared at her shoulder.

'Thank you,' she smiled, 'you must be Cec and Bert. I've heard a lot about you,' on seeing the alarm on their faces, 'all good, I assure you.'

'How are they?' Violet asked as they made their way through the streets of Melbourne.

'Good,' Cec nodded, 'babe's a beaut.' He declared.

'...and my daughter in law?'

'Bloody amazing, begging your pardon.' Bert laughed, 'never thought I'd see it though, her a mother.'

'I see,' she tried not to laugh. The conversations she had had with Phryne had indicated as much, that she felt she'd be a rotten mother but she'd give it her best shot and with Jack and Dot and everybody else she reckoned the baby would not want for love.

'Don't tell her I said that,' Bert muttered.

'Don't be daft, mate,' his comrade smirked, 'she knows.'

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Mr Butler opened the door to Mrs Robinson.

'Mr Butler, I presume,' she held out her hand, which he took, gently and bowed.

'Indeed, Mrs Robinson, welcome to Wardlow.' He smiled, a twinkle in his eye, a twinkle that had appeared since Portia had entered the world.

Bert placed her suitcase inside the door and said they'd be by later. Mr Butler nodded. They came by every evening for an update on the progress of mother and child.

Mr Butler showed her her room and where the bathroom was.

'I'd like to wash and change before I see Phryne,' she smiled looking and the warm and inviting room, decorated in muted greens and creams, 'I don't want to pass any travel dirt to the baby.'

'I'll let her know you've arrived and bring tea to you both, about half an hour?'

'That would be lovely.'

'Mrs Robinson is just down the hall.'

'Thank you, Mr Butler.'

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In her bedroom Phryne was reading. Jack had offered to stay and keep her company but she said she'd call if she needed him. She dozed on and off during the day while she tried to get into routine, so she told him she wasn't much company. He kissed her and said he would leave later each morning and arrive in time for dinner until they were settled as a family.

She heard the voices on the landing and rightly assumed her mother in law had arrived. Looking round the room she decided it was acceptable, Dot had drawn the curtains that morning and the sunlight played across the end of the bed, the bassinet was neat, Portia slept soundly, rarely moving. Phryne didn't like her swaddled, her little nightgowns were warm enough and the covers kept any draughts off her. Dot had swaddled her in the beginning but it had led to the baby crying and whining. When Phryne had lain her on the bed, free to move her little arms and legs she seemed to be much happier so that was that. Portia had decided.

'Too much like her mother,' Jack had mused one evening.

'Ha ha.' Phryne had laughed, 'she was very active when I was carrying her, suppose she isn't going to change.'

'Highly unlikely.'

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Portia chose to wake and require her mother's attention just as Violet knocked on the door. Phryne picked her up and smiled,

'Come in.' She leant over and collected a fresh nappy as Violet entered.

'Am I intruding?' Violet stood in the doorway watching her daughter in law attend to her granddaughter's needs.

Phryne tilted her head and smiled, 'Of course not. Hello Violet, how nice to meet you , at last.'

Violet took that as an invitation to enter and she went to sit on the edge of the bed, noticing how relaxed and at ease she was. Phryne passed the baby over to her grandmother and headed to the bathroom to deposit the used nappy in the bucket Dot had put there, and wash her hands.

'Jack said you were doing things your own way,' Violet handed the baby back to be fed as Phryne settled in the nursing chair she and Mac had chosen.

'I've travelled a lot, Violet,' Phryne sat back with Portia latched on, 'and some women seem to manage without all the fuss and palaver, the lying in period. I don't feel ill, my doctor says I am healthy, and...' she looked down at the baby, '...isn't giving birth the most natural thing in the world?'

Violet grinned and sat on the end of the bed. She remembered sitting just so with Jack and his sister when they were born, and being equally frustrated at being treated as if she were a china doll that would break if handled incorrectly.

'Well, things change, don't they?' Violet stood to open the door when Mr Butler knocked and called that he had a tray of tea.

'Thank you, Mr B!' Phryne called over.

'Miss.' His mistress couldn't be seen from the doorway, so neither could be embarrassed, but Phryne had found ways to be discreet when she was feeding, including keeping a silk shawl to drape over herself and the baby.

While they were drinking tea and chatting, getting to really know each other, Violet continued to watch Phryne. Jack had described her as modern, fiercely independent and a force to be reckoned with. She supposed this was why she was not lying in bed being pale and interesting, but sitting up in a chair, bright and interested in what was happening outside the bedroom door. When Portia had had her fill Phryne didn't just put her back in the bassinet, she made sure she didn't have any trapped wind, then wandered around the room singing to her, not a lullaby, a soft rendition of 'Let's misbehave', until the baby was fast asleep.

'I'm hoping to persuade Dr Macmillan to let me go down to the parlour tomorrow,' Phryne smiled as she placed the baby in the bassinet and tucked a blanket lightly round her. 'She said if I was a good girl, she might let me.' She grinned wryly.

'Have you been?' Violet laughed, 'a good girl, that is?'

'I've done everything she said I had to,' Phryne sat again in the chair, 'but I must admit I'm getting bored. Dot comes in every day and tells me what is going on, brings me the papers, Jane is coming home after school every day and tells me what she has been doing, and does her homework in here, but...'

'...you are used to being out and about.' Violet took her hand, 'I don't blame you. I remember well I used to get quite cross with Jack's father. Insisting I stay in hospital for the required amount of time, it was really stifling. Being at home has to be nicer. The food will be an improvement, if nothing else.'

'Oh it certainly is, and I can choose what I want, when I want it.' Phryne picked up a piece of Dot's shortbread, thoughtfully provided by Mr Butler, and waved it in the air.

'...and you can have visitors whenever you want, and they can stay as long as you want them to...' Violet laughed again, '...a perfect way to recover.'

'Oh, I'm so glad you're here, Violet.' Phryne leant forward and hugged her, 'Dot is wonderful, but she needs to take it easy, she's not as comfortable with her pregnancy as I was.'

'Poor thing, I always enjoyed being pregnant,' Violet returned the hug.

'I keep telling her she doesn't need to be here so long,' Phryne sat back and looked worried.

'Well, I can take some off the load, if she'll let me.' Violet offered, 'I wouldn't want to upset her, but if she needs to be resting...'

'You're a guest..,' Phryne started.

'I'm family, Phryne, dear.' Violet stood up and put their tea things tidy on the tray.

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'Dot, dear,' Mac smiled as she entered for her daily visit. 'You need to rest, not run round after Phryne.'

'I'm alright, doctor,' Dot sighed, trying to look as if she was, but the darkening circles round her eyes and the lack of a warm inviting smile told another story.

'I'll be the judge of that.' Mac pursed her lips. 'I'll see your mistress first then you.' Phryne had told Dot that Dr Macmillan would look after her, and she would have no argument about it! She was paying.

Dot went upstairs with the doctor telling her that Mrs Robinson senior had arrived and was with Miss in the bedroom.

'Well, perhaps she can take some of the workload off you,' Mac suggested, 'I'm sure she's not here to add to the load.'

'Oh, doctor, she's a visitor!' Dot was horrified.

'She's family, Dot,' Mac waited while Dot announced her arrival, 'and I'm sure she will want to help.'

Dot knocked and opened the door,

'Dr Macmillan, miss,' Dot stood to one side and let Mac pass.

'Thank you, Dot.' Phryne looked across, 'and you go and lie down, Mac will be with you soon.' She made it an order before Dot could object.

'Yes miss.' Dot sighed, she felt tired and heavy, and the baby was doing somersaults inside her, which was most uncomfortable. She picked up the tray and took it out, meaning to take it downstairs, but Mr Butler had followed her and took it off her.

'Go on, Dorothy,' he smiled softly, 'have a rest.'

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Phryne introduced Violet to her oldest friend, and one of the few she could really open up to, apart from Jack, of course, but even he was not privy to some of the things she discussed with the doctor! Not always medical issues, either!

'Well, madam,' Mac turned to her impatient patient, 'how are we today?'

She checked her pulse and blood pressure while Phryne said she was beginning to get bored with staying in the bedroom, even with the visitors, most of whom only stayed for an hour in case she got tired. Aunt Prudence had called once, but didn't stay above two hours in case she tired her niece.

'Mm..' Mac looked at her then turned to Violet, 'well, Mrs Robinson, what do you think of her?'

'I think that if you don't let her leave the room she's likely to abseil down the side of the house with Portia strapped to her back.' She laughed.

'You've been listening to Jack,' Phryne threw back her head and roared with laughter. 'Could I go down for dinner, tonight, Mac, please.' She opened her eyes and looked innocently, pleadingly at the doctor. 'I promise not to have a wild night of dancing and drinking.'

'Well,' Mac drew out the word and thought, Phryne had done well not to argue or push to do much over the week, 'I suppose so.'

'...and,' Phryne tilted her head, '...you did say...and I have been good.'

'Alright, but only as far as the parlour chaise,' Mac sighed, 'and take Portia down to the cradle, to save anyone running up and downstairs.'

Phryne flung her arms round her and kissed her, 'Thank you, darling Mac!'

Mac rolled her eyes, 'well would it make any difference if I said you were to stay up here?'

'Don't worry, doctor,' Violet watched the scene play out, 'I'll see she doesn't overdo it.'

'Good luck.' Mac turned to the baby, 'now let's have a look at you, miss,' she whispered, then turned to the mother, 'I'd like to check her umbilicus, Phryne, see how it's healing.'

'I've done as you told me, Mac.' Phryne picked up her daughter and lifted the nightgown. Portia stirred in her arms, but didn't wake.

Mac put on some gloves and gently touched round the stump. She tipped her head down and sniffed.

'It's going well, Phryne, couple of days should see that drop off, then it will heal to a belly button.' She pulled the gown back down and took off her gloves to stroke the baby's cheek. Portia flexed her arm at the tickle then turned her head to her mother's breast. Phryne rolled her eyes and offered her the nipple.

Mac shook her head and smiled. 'I'll go and see Dot, now.' she stood up. 'I think she should stop working, Phryne.'

'I keep telling her to,' Phryne sighed and leant back in the chair, 'she says she doesn't want to be on her own, but when she's here she does too much.'

'Could she and Hugh move in here, until she's had the baby?' Mac suggested. 'That way she will have company and do as much or as little as she can.'

'I've suggested it, but she says she shouldn't take advantage.' Phryne looked genuinely worried for her companion, 'but she wouldn't be. She lived here before she married, she only moved out because she married.'

'Is there a room they could use?'

'She's next door, it has a double bed so it's not as if we have to find room for Hugh.'

'Right,' Mac drew herself up and straightened her shoulders, 'I'll make it an order, or threaten to admit her to hospital.'

'Thanks, Mac.' Phryne smiled, 'come and dine with us soon.'

'If it would help,' Violet had been thinking, 'I can take over a lot of what Dot does, though I'm not sure my shortbread is as good.'

'Violet...' Phryne was about to remind her she was a guest, but Violet would only remind her she was family. '...thank you.' She smiled.

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Jack was a little later home than planned, even though he knew his mother was arriving that day. In the end he had scooped up the files he was reading and put them into his briefcase, perhaps his wife could offer some explanation for the strange disappearance of the two girls from the church hostel. He had the transcripts of the interviews of all the other residents and the women who ran the place.

He let himself in, noticing a light coming from the parlour, his mother probably. Mr Butler was there in the blink of an eye to take his coat and hat and inform him that Miss was in the parlour with Mrs Robinson and the baby.

'Did Dr Macmillan say she could come down?' He looked at the older man, who showed no sign of distress that his mistress had decided she had had enough of being caged.

'For dinner tonight, and tomorrow for as much of the day as she can take.' Mr Butler nodded, 'shall I bring you a drink, Inspector?'

'Thank you, Mr B,' Jack smiled, 'I could do with one, a trying day.'

'Sir.'

He pushed the door to the parlour and saw Phryne on the chaise longue and his mother in the chair opposite. Phryne's head turned and Violet looked up,

'Mother,' he went to her first, 'you made it, then?'

'Hello, dear.' She kissed his cheek, 'yes, just after lunch.'

He went over to his wife and sat next to her, lifting her so she could lean against his chest as she usually did upstairs on the bed.

'See you've worn Mac down.' He kissed the top of her head.

She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow, 'we have a guest Jack, it would be rude to stay in our room.'

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Over the next couple of weeks Violet settled into the household, taking over some of Dot's duties. Dot and Hugh were persuaded that they would be better off staying at Wardlow until the baby was born. Dot would have friends around her and Hugh would not worry about her during the day.

Phryne would rise mid morning and she and Portia, nicknamed Polly by her father, would spend the day in the parlour, and, towards the end of the second week, an hour in the sunshine in the back garden. It was during this time that a telegram arrived from Phryne's parents.

'Arriving Sunday STOP Mother & Father STOP.'

Phryne groaned, 'I wish they'd told me they were planning on visiting.'

'Surely, dear,' Violet smiled, 'it will be good to introduce them to their granddaughter.'

'I suppose so,' she couldn't deny her parents this, but 'they'll have to stay at the Windsor.'

'What about Dot and Hugh's?' Violet suggested.

'Mother is rather out of the habit of looking after herself.' Phryne picked up her daughter, who always chose to require nourishment when Phryne needed to think, 'no, The Windsor, I'll reserve a suite for them.' She settled to feed Portia/Polly, feeling her father would create chaos and her mother would offer her advice. That's what she liked about Violet, she offered ideas, not advice, such as now that the baby was three weeks old perhaps they could go for a short stroll, if Dr Macmillan didn't object.

'Would it make any difference if I did?' Mac had rolled her eyes.

'Well, yes.' Phryne pouted, 'even if I have been sitting outside.'

'You'll be fine,' the doctor had smiled, 'in fact I'm thinking of recommending mother's get out of bed after a week, if they feel up to it. Call yourself my test subject, if you will.'

'Happy to oblige,' Phryne grinned.

She and Violet had put Polly in the pram and sauntered round the block in the sun one afternoon, and neither mother or child seemed any the worse for their experience. In fact, Phryne noted, her daughter seemed to sleep better after some fresh air, so they did it again, and again.

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As her parents hadn't given a precise time of arrival Phryne and Jack took the baby out for a stroll along the Esplanade on Sunday afternoon. The air was fresh and cool, Polly was dressed properly, as a little girl. She wore a little dress knitted with a lacy pattern, matching leggings and a cardigan and bonnet, all in pale yellow. Violet had been shopping for suitable clothes soon after she heard about Portia's birth, and had brought them to Phryne for approval. A soft wool blanket covered her from the chest down as she lay on her back, hands above her head.

'Well, Inspector,' Phryne slipped one arm through the crook in his, 'did you ever think this would be us, on a Sunday afternoon?'

'Never, Miss Fisher,' he grinned patting her hand, 'but I must say, I rather like it.'

'Strangely, so do I.'

'Perhaps, darling, next week,' he helped her steer the pram round to head back the way they had come, 'you might feel up to a stroll in the Botanic Gardens.'

'I think I might well be able to manage that.' She agreed, 'we can sit on a bench if I need a rest.'

'We can.'

They arrived back at their home just as Henry Fisher was harrumphing about staying at the Windsor.

'Now, Henry.' Lady Fisher put her hand in his arm, 'Phryne has very kindly booked us a suite, and she does have rather a house full. We will see her plenty of times while we are here.'

'Mother, Father,' Phryne picked the baby out of the pram, 'you should have said what time you were arriving, I would have been here to meet you.'

'Didn't you send that second telegram, Henry?' She kissed her daughter while looking at her husband.

'Must have forgotten.' He mumbled and bent to kiss Phryne's other cheek.

'Really!' But Margaret Fisher's attention was taken by the sound of Portia deciding she was hungry.

'Will you excuse us,' Phryne silently thanked her daughter for giving her a reason to leave everyone to argue about her father's memory. She headed up the stairs quickly, before the baby really got into her stride. Margaret looked at her husband from beneath furrowed brows and followed her daughter, hoping for some time alone with her.

Jack watched the two head off and turned to Mr Butler.

'Tea, in the parlour, I think, Mr Butler,' he smiled, 'and perhaps you could ask Cec and Bert if they'd mind taking this luggage to the Windsor. My wife has reserved a suite for her parents.'

'Of course, sir,' Mr Butler hid his smile, 'I shall sort it out right now.'

'Thank you,' Jack ushered his father in law and his own mother into the parlour.

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'Phryne?' Lady Fisher called, 'may I?'

'What?' Phryne's concentration on her daughter's wellbeing over-rode her thoughts of her mother, 'yes, of course, sorry mother. Come in.'

She swiftly changed Portia then handed her to her maternal grandmother while she washed her hands. Margaret rocked the fractious bundle, cooing to her, until Phryne returned and took the baby and sat in the nursing chair.

'Come on, greedy guts,' she undid the buttons of her blouse and slipped the strap of her bra down enough to give access to her nipple then, as she described it to Jack, plugged her daughter in.

Lady Fisher sat on the end of the bed and watched in awe at her daughter's obvious competence at childcare.

'It's a sight I never thought I'd see,' she mused. 'You, with a baby.'

'A girl can change her mind, can't she?' Phryne smiled, 'one of life's little adventures, aren't you, sweetie.' She bent down to place a light kiss on the baby's forehead. Polly flexed her fingers and continued suckling.

'Will you have a nanny?' Margaret couldn't imagine Phryne becoming a full time mother.

'I don't think so,' Phryne looked up, 'perhaps another maid; Dot and I had hoped to raise the babies together, she doesn't want to stop work either, but she's not having the best time. Ironic that my pregnancy should be a breeze and hers not.'

Margaret pursed her lips, it seemed her granddaughter was to be allowed to run wild. She held her tongue, though, not wanting to have a heated discussion on her first day back in Melbourne, she would have enough of those with Henry.

'Thank you for reserving a suite for us, darling.' She changed the subject.

'My pleasure, mother.' Phryne adjusted her clothing now Polly was satisfied, 'I'm sorry we haven't room for you here,' She started to settle the baby, wandering round the room, stroking her back, before she placed her in the bassinet.

'Actually,' Margaret smiled, 'your father would probably make too much noise for Portia, blustering about as he does.'

'Oh she's fine with noise,' Phryne kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed, 'but he wouldn't be allowed to smoke those awful cigars in the house. I don't like the smell and I'm sure it's not good for a baby's lungs.'

Lady Fisher raised her eyebrows, 'I don't like them either, but he insists.'

There was a knock on the door and Jack peeked round, to see if he was allowed in, he didn't usually bother when she was feeding, but with her mother there...

'Phryne, love?' He saw she had settled the baby, and went over to her. She was stifling a yawn her mother hadn't noticed as she turned to see who had knocked.

'Jack,' she smiled, 'would you take the Hispano and run my parents to the hotel. I think I'll have a nap, before dinner.'

'Are you alright, dear?' Margaret was instantly worried.

'Night feeds,' she openly yawned this time and started to undo the buttons on her blouse. Lady Fisher kissed her cheek and said she'd see her later, at dinner.

Jack left her, asleep in her slip under a light blanket.

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As per instructions from his lovely wife, Jack drove his in laws to the Windsor in the Hispano. Lady Fisher again worried about Phryne having a nap in the middle of the day but Jack tried to put her at ease,

'Dr Macmillan says she's fine. She feeds Portia a couple of times a night at the moment, you've seen she doesn't just put her down immediately afterwards.' Jack pulled up outside the hotel, 'a nap mid-afternoon is perfectly alright.'

Jack drove back to Wardlow after saying he would collect them at seven for dinner. He mused on Margaret's thoughts about his wife needing a nap during the day, but she had always done that, if she was going to be out at night on a case, or dancing the night away. He'd check with Mac on the way back, she'd be at the hospital, he was sure.

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'Come!' Mac called in answer to the knock at the door.

'Mac,' Jack closed the door behind him, 'can I have a word, about Phryne?'

'Sure, take a seat.' Mac wasn't worried, because he wasn't, or didn't appear to be. 'What's bothering you?'

'Well, nothing, until her mother seemed concerned she would nap in the afternoon.'

'Are they here, her parents?' Mac smiled. 'That might be hard for the poor girl.'

Jack hummed his agreement, 'it's just that we had been for a walk, along the esplanade, and they were there when we got back. Phryne went to feed Polly, and Margaret went with her.'

'Only natural.' Mac sat back, steepling her fingers in thought.

'Quite. But when Phryne asked me to take them to the Windsor because she was going to have a nap before dinner, her mother got worried.' Jack sighed, 'and on the way to the hotel. I mean, Phryne has always napped if she was expecting to be especially active later in the day or evening. She said it was the night feeds, which I think it is, I just...'

'...wanted to check if I agreed with you?' Mac laughed.

'Tell you what,' she leant forward over her desk, 'set another place for me and I'll check her blood pressure and take a sample to check for anaemia. She's been fine up to now, so I don't think there's anything to worry about.'

'Thanks Mac,' Jack stood up and extended his hand, 'Phryne will have no idea you're checking up on her.'

'She will, but don't let that worry you. I didn't see her yesterday, because she doesn't need that much medical care at the moment.'

'I'm picking her parents up at seven for dinner, can you cope with Henry?'

'I'll be there around six thirty,' Mac shook his hand. 'See you later.'

'I'll tell Mr B there'll be an extra one at the table.'

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'Hello, Mac.' Phryne blinked, surprised to see her friend at her bedside. 'To what do I owe the pleasure?'

'Well, if anyone asks it's because I needed to do a check up on you, having missed yesterday, but...'

'Jack's asked you to look me over.' Phryne wasn't in the least bit cross with her husband, it was his caring nature.

'Not as such.' Mac grinned, 'your mother is worried about you having a nap in the middle of the day.'

'I see.' Phryne held out her arm for the cuff and winced as it tightened. 'Couldn't you just say it's because of the night feeds?'

'That's what Jack told her.' She read the numbers and smiled, 'but it set a seed of doubt in his mind, even though, as he said, you do nap if you have a function in the evening.'

Phryne rolled her eyes, and held out her arm when Mac showed her the syringe.

'Just to be on the safe side.' She drew the blood and put the vial in her bag. 'Everything else ok?'

'Fine, thanks,' Phryne had discussed what to expect during her recovery and everything was going just as Mac had said for a normal healthy woman.

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Phryne placed Polly in the parlour cradle, she should sleep through dinner. Mr Butler brought through the aperitifs, still concocting fruit cocktails for his mistress although she would have a glass of wine with her meal.

Lady Fisher cornered Dr Macmillan about her daughter's recovery, need for naps during the day and general health.

'Lady Fisher,' Mac took a mouthful of whisky, 'Phryne is the healthiest new mother I have seen. Napping during the day is not unusual for her if she is dining out or attending a function, and as she is feeding during the night it's only to be expected.' They looked over at the woman in question holding an animated discussion with her father. Phryne's brow was furrowed with annoyance.

'Oh dear,' Margaret heaved a huge sigh, 'looks like Henry is trying to get her to approve a scheme, again.'

'I'll go and rescue her,' Mac touched her arm, 'don't worry about Phryne, she's doing well, though if her father is annoying her...'

Lady Fisher hummed in agreement.

Phryne duly rescued by the doctor they went into dinner. Having Violet there meant there was stories of Jack's childhood to steer the conversation away from anything that would upset Phryne and kept Henry from trying to inveigle anyone into his latest money-making scheme.

Portia waited until her mother had eaten before she demanded a feed so Phryne left them, saying she would see them all the following day. Jack followed her to the door and kissed her,

'I'll drop your parents off at the hotel soon, darling,' he smiled, 'then we'll close up for the night, shall we?'

'Don't feel you have to end the evening for us, Jack,' she kissed him back. 'We still have the missing girls to discuss.'

'Phryne...'

'Well, you always wake when Polly does...'

It didn't seem odd, to either of them, to discuss a case while Phryne was engaged in breastfeeding at two a.m.

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So all grandparents gathered to meet the newest member of the team! A bit domestic and fluffy, so perhaps the missing girls will be a juicier case. Can't have Miss Fisher getting bored, can we?


	19. Chapter 19

'Dear heaven!' Phryne exclaimed as she pushed the parlour door open, Polly in her arms. 'What on _earth_ is that smell?' She stepped inside, cautiously, 'Father, what _are_ you smoking?'

Henry was standing by the fireplace, self importantly smoking a cigar. He had sneaked out of the hotel to see his daughter about another money making scheme, involving buying a race horse, of all things.

'Best quality, m'dear.' He smiled genially.

Best quality what?' She retreated to stand in the hall, 'pig manure?'

'Phryne...!'

'You are _not_ smoking that in my house, polluting your granddaughter's lungs.' She coughed and covered her mouth and nose with her hand, 'it's more fragrant in a cow shed!'

'That's no way to speak to your father!' He harrumphed. 'A little respect. please.'

'This is my house,' Phryne hissed, 'the respect goes both ways, father. Now either go out into the garden with it or put it out.' She turned and put Polly in the pram, intending to set her out in the garden while she spoke to her father, as he had come over requesting a discussion of a financial nature. She had no doubt where it would lead. She pushed the pram into the garden and went to sit on a bench. Henry watched her go and decided he'd join her, after all he had come over to speak to her in particular.

'Phryne, m'dear.' He sat next to her and stared ahead. 'I've been offered a golden opportunity...'

'No,' she snapped and snatched the cigar out of his hand, throwing it to the ground and putting it out with the sole of her shoe.

'Hear me out, darling.' He touched her hand which she withdrew almost viciously. 'A racehorse, a certainty to win any race.'

'To where, father? The knacker's yard?' She rolled her eyes, 'you wouldn't know a good race horse if it ran you down.'

'Now, now. I've spoken to the current owner, and the jockey, both give glowing reports.' He turned to her.

'Filly or colt?' She asked.

'Er,...' he scratched his head.

'Honestly father, you don't know anything about the animal; what breed is it? What was its last race, and where did it come?' Phryne set her jaw, 'I will not help you out with this father, and don't even think about trying to get any of my friends to join you in this venture.'

'Phryne...'

'No!' She stood up and he almost expected her to stamp her foot, as she had done as a child, 'it's gambling, father, and you know how well you don't do at gambling of any sort.'

'But...'

'Once again, father, no. non, nein, net, no, in any language!' She put her hands on the pram handle and started to move down to the gate, 'I'm going for a walk.'

She didn't exactly storm off, but she was tempted to do so. She decided a short amble along the esplanade would clear her mind. Aunt Prudence was joining them for dinner that evening. Sparks would fly if he started on the subject again.

She looked down at the sleeping baby who had the power to calm her down, whenever she was cross about something. As she wandered she thought about the two missing girls that Jack had finally had the time to talk to her about. Two o'clock in the morning, with a baby at one's breast seemed to bring out all the possible thoughts, from white slavery ;again; to becoming 'working girls', finding gainful employment or even simply running away. The hostel, Jack told her, was just a half way house for girls who had come to the city and although regarded as a church establishment was not staffed by nuns or religious zealots. In fact the women that ran the place seemed rather motherly.

So deep in her thoughts was she that she barely noticed the police constable who tipped his helmet to her, or the cars that passed, at the legal limit!

'Mrs Robinson?' A familiar voice brought her back to the here and now, Concetta Strano stopped in front of the pram.

'Mrs Strano,' Phryne stopped, Concetta was no threat to her now, not that she thought she ever had been, 'I'm sorry, miles away.'

'Please, Concetta, ' the Italian woman smiled, 'I had heard, congratulations.'

'Thank you, and it's Phryne.'

Concetta looked into the pram, 'So beautiful.' She looked up, 'you are well?'

'Very, thank you.' Phryne smiled, 'and you?'

'I too am well.' Concetta smiled, 'settled now that the restaurant is no longer mine.'

'I heard you sold up.' Phryne turned the pram round to head home, 'do you miss it?'

'Not really.' They fell into step, 'I am free to be who I want to be now.'

'And that is?'

'I teach, Italian of course.' Mrs Strano laughed, 'and English to the Italians who come to settle here. So, you see, I am now happy, and due to marry soon. A good man, an Australian who does not seek to control me, who is happy to share a small flat and go to work each day, come home each evening...we are content.'

'Concetta,' they were now back at Wardlow, 'I am so happy for you. So will Jack be.'

'He is a good papa?'

'A very good papa,' Phryne nodded then paused, before, 'come and have tea with me, one day, please.'

'I would like that very much,' the other woman agreed, 'and one day I will introduce you to my William.'

'I would like that very much,' Phryne leant over to kiss her cheek, knowing what Concetta had given up, 'now, I'm afraid, Polly requires attention. It was lovely to see you again, Concetta.'

'And you, Phryne.'

Phryne watched her go on her way, and saw a happier woman, content with her lot. She turned to the pram,

'Ok, I get it,' She grinned at the grumbling child, 'hungry, again.'

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'I saw Concetta today,' Phryne set the baby in the cradle. She was dressed for dinner and hoped the baby would sleep until she and their guests had finished.

'Oh.' Jack sipped the whisky Mr Butler had brought in for him, 'how was she?'

'Well, and happy.' Phryne sat next to him and lifted his hand to her lips, 'she teaches Italian and English to Italians. She is engaged to be married.'

'Good, she was a good woman.' He couldn't look her in the eye.

'Jack.' She sat back on the chaise, 'it's ok. She congratulated me on Polly, and I invited her for tea, one day. Neither of us are jealous.'

'We wouldn't have been happy,' he settled back in the chair and put his arm round her, 'not as happy as we are.' He kissed the top of her head, 'we are happy, aren't we, darling?'

'Wonderfully,' she lifted her head and kissed him., 'blissfully,' another kiss, 'sinfully.' Finishing with a deep, passionate kiss.

He smiled, glad he was right about that, because he didn't think it was possible to be this happy, not after what the world had thrown at him, at them both.

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Mrs Stanley arrived before her sister and brother in law, carrying a flat box and hoping to catch Phryne on her own, or just her and Jack, anyway.

They exchanged pleasantries and Mr Butler brought in a sherry for Aunt Prudence.

'Now, Phryne dear,' Prudence settled herself on a chair and lifted the box she had with her, 'you haven't said if you are going to have Portia christened, and I'm not going to put pressure on you, dear but...'

She lifted the lid and the top layer of tissue paper. '...this was the gown I used for Guy and Arthur, and I wondered...'

'Aunt Prudence...' Phryne started to speak.

'...I know.' Prudence smiled wistfully, 'you are probably not going to, or if you do it will be some frightfully modern ceremony that bears no resemblance to a baptism, I just...'

'Aunt Prudence...' she put her hand on the woman's arm, 'we haven't discussed it, but, if we do decide to go ahead then...' she looked over at Jack, '...we'd love to use this gown.' She could see, even from the folds it was a beautiful piece. While silk, delicate embroidery, Polly would look gorgeous in it.

Jack looked over at his wife. Neither were particularly regular church goers, and both were Protestants, but, he thought it would be a good thing, to have their daughter baptised.

'Really?' Mrs Stanley brightened. 'I didn't think it would ever get used again. It doesn't look like Guy and Isabella are likely to make me a grandmother, and with Arthur gone...'

Discussion about a christening was stopped as the sound of Henry Fisher greeting Mr Butler was heard in the hall. Hearty as ever he blew into the parlour followed by Margaret who's eyes instantly fell on her sister.

'Prudence, darling,' she embraced the woman warmly, 'how lovely to see you.'

'Margaret,' Prudence gave in to the embrace, 'you look well.'

'As do you my dear, as do you.'

Mr Butler brought in some drinks for the guests, and informed them that dinner would be in half an hour, if that was acceptable.

'Lovely thank you, Mr B,' Phryne smiled at him and accepted a fruit cocktail from him. She watched her father take a whisky off the tray and approach his sister in law.

'Prudence, dear thing,' he grinned at her, 'how are you?'

Mrs Stanley looked sharply at him, 'Henry, keeping out of trouble, I hope?'

'Indeed, always.' He smiled again.

Prudence hummed disbelievingly. 'So, Margaret,' she turned to her sister, 'what do you think of Phryne becoming a mother?'

'I'm delighted, if a little surprised,' Phryne's mother admitted, 'I never thought anyone would tame her enough.'

'I doubt she has been tamed,' Prudence didn't like the thought, she had grown used to her wild niece and was glad Jack did not try to change her, 'just had her enthusiasm pointed in a different direction. Portia is lovely, isn't she?'

'Beautiful,' the baby's grandmother agreed, 'Phryne tells me she won't be having a nanny.'

'Why would she?' Prudence whispered, 'after all she feeds the child herself, I'm sure she will find a way for Portia to be well cared for. She has Dorothy after all.'

'Her companion?' Margaret expressed surprise, 'but isn't she expecting her own child, and not having a good time of it?'

'Don't start organising her, you should know by now that she is her own woman.' Prudence thought that her sister was starting to interfere and knew Phryne would rebel, she always did. Mr Butler saw fit to announce dinner at that moment so Margaret and Prudence had to pause in their discussion of Phryne's fitness to be a mother without stopping her work as a Lady Detective, although Margaret referred to it as her ';little hobby'.

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Dinner went well, Henry did not mention anything about buying a racehorse, much to his daughter's relief, Margaret and Prudence chatted about their various charity works and Violet, who had been introduced to them and joined them for dinner, suggested further ideas for their works. .Henry dipped in and out of the conversations, he was proud of how much effort his wife put into the hospital wing that Phryne and Jack had generously supported when they were staying with them.

They adjourned to the parlour for coffee and liqueurs. Phryne checked Polly and she smiled to see she was still sleeping. Each day she fell more and more in love with her daughter and had decided she would not take any precautions to prevent her having a sibling. A boy would be nice, she thought.

Henry took out a cigar and offered one to Jack.

'No thank you, I don't.' Jack put his hand up, 'and, with Polly in the room, I'd rather you didn't, or took it outside.'

Henry huffed, 'Shouldn't she be upstairs?'

'Even if she was,' Jack stood firm, 'I'd rather you didn't.'

'Well...'

'Henry, don't you dare.' Margaret saw what was going on, 'those things smell disgusting, if you really must, there is a garden.'

Phryne watched everyone support her in keeping her daughter safe, and smiled inwardly. Polly, however, had been disturbed by the noise and an empty feeling in her little tummy. She flexed her limbs and whimpered. Phryne nudged the crib in the hope it would settle her back down, but looking at the clock on the shelf she knew it was unlikely. If she went upstairs now it was unlikely she would reappear...

She picked her hungry daughter up and looked at wryly at Jack.

'Go on, love,' he kissed her lips, 'I can see to the rest of the evening.'

She returned the kiss and offered her apologies to their guests, and headed out of the room. The cool of the hall calmed her, she hadn't realised she was tense.

'Can I bring you some tea, Phryne, dear?' Violet was at her side, knowing better than anyone her needs at feeding time.

'That would be lovely,' Phryne sighed, 'please bring yourself a cup too, I would welcome your company.'

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Violet watched as she fed the baby. Reclining on the bed, gazing at the suckling child she seemed at peace, almost beatific. But beneath that peaceful expression was worry, annoyance, disappointment.

'Phryne?'

'Hm?' She looked up, 'sorry, Violet.' She sighed, 'I wish I could have the relationship with my parents Jack has with you.'

'They love you, I'm sure.' Violet poured her tea.

'Do they?' Phryne shifted a little on the pillows, 'Father is always looking to me to hand him a little more money to invest in one of his schemes, mother thinks I should hire a nanny to look after Polly and that my being a Lady Detective is a 'hobby'. I do love them, Violet, I just feel they need to grow up.'

Violet smiled, Isn't that the wrong way around?'

'You know what I mean.' Phryne smiled and relaxed a little. 'I seem to be propping them up. When I took father back to England I set up an account for him, a regular amount for him to use for whatever he needed it for, knowing it would be cards or racing, one for mother to run the house and one for her dressmaker and such things, and arranged for the rest to be invested.' She surprised herself, telling Violet so much. 'I shouldn't have to be involved anymore, except for checking the investments twice a year.'

'So what happened?'

'Father asked me to help him buy a racehorse, ha!' she disturbed the baby. 'Sorry, sweetie.' She adjusted her hold and shifted her to the other breast. 'I refused, of course, he doesn't know one end of the horse from another. Just another dodgy money losing scheme.'

'Don't you mean, money making scheme?'

'No.' Phryne laughed softly. 'Sorry Violet, I shouldn't burden you with my parents.'

Violet smiled. 'No worries, my dear.'

'Aunt Prudence brought the christening robe she used for her sons,' Phryne offered, 'she was wondering if we are going to have Polly baptised.

'Are you?' Violet was not going to push for this, though she would like it to be done.

'We haven't discussed it, me and Jack,' Phryne admitted, 'but perhaps we should, it would be nice.'

'It's your decision, nobody else's.' Violet took Polly out of her arms and stroked the baby's back, 'yours and Jack's.'

'Do you think it would be awfully rude if I went to bed, now?' Phryne stretched, 'without going downstairs.'

'A little perhaps,' Violet settled the baby, 'but, you are a nursing mother.' She smiled.

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'Phryne's apologies,' Violet appeared in the parlour, 'she's rather tired and asks that you excuse her.'

'Mother?' Jack went up to her.

'She's fine, Jack,' his mother smiled and gave him a reassuring squeeze of his arm.

'She should have a nanny.' Margaret muttered.

'Rubbish,' Prudence retorted, 'Portia is only just a month old, Phryne is bound to be tired. We used to be tied to our beds for three weeks, she's been up for three weeks.'

'Quite right, Mrs Stanley,' Violet nodded her approval, 'times, and advice, are changing and she is leading the way.'

'Violet, it's Prudence, please.' She smiled, 'and on that note, perhaps I should take my leave. Give Phryne my love, Jack. I shall call and see her during the week.'

'Thank you , Prudence,' Jack smiled, 'I'm sure she will look forward to it.' He walked out to the hall with her. 'Prudence, the christening robe... I'm sure it will be used. Phryne and I will discuss it and tell you our plans. It is incredibly thoughtful of you.'

'I wasn't sure...' Prudence smiled as he kissed her cheek, 'you don't have to, if you don't want to.'

'I think Phryne will surprise you...again.'

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While Jack continued his quest to find the two girls who had disappeared from the hostel, Phryne carried on adjusting to being a mother. In some ways she was relieved to find she wasn't bothered with requests to attend cases of her own, and in another way a little disappointed that people seem to think she might have retired! Still she could offer some thoughts on the two girls.

Jack, Hugh and the rest of the team at City South were increasingly frustrated, other crimes had been solved over the time the girls had gone missing, requests for information had gone into the papers, but no one had come forward.

'Jack,' Phryne passed him his daughter, while she dressed for dinner, 'I had a thought, today.'

'Hmm? Anything, Phryne, anything. I'm increasingly worried.' He sat on the edge of the bed, he had discovered another favourite perfume, over Phryne's jasmine bath crystals, fresh baby.

'You don't suppose they went home, do you?' She applied her lipstick, 'the hostel said they were struggling to find work. Suppose they decided that living on a farm in the wilds was preferable to wandering about Melbourne in the winter.'

He looked up, 'Do you think so? It could be, I suppose. Jobs for untrained or unqualified girls are not easy. It would be better than prostitution.'

'Anything's better than that.' Phryne turned, 'isn't it?'

'I'll contact them tomorrow. If they've a phone,' He stood up to escort her down to dinner, 'if not I'll have to go out.'

'Is it far?' Phryne wondered how far they had come to find work.

'Couple of hours away.'

'Well, let me know.' They had arrived at the parlour, 'I'll have Mr B put a hamper up for you and Hugh.'

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'The hamper, miss.' Mr Butler handed a basket laden with sandwiches, fruit and a flask of tea for the Inspector and Constable Collins. 'Shall I put it in the car?'

'Thanks, Mr B.' Phryne smiled, 'I'll put Polly on the back seat in her bassinet.'

Mr Butler wondered at the wisdom of Mrs Robinson driving with the baby in the car, would she drive at her usual pace or be more mindful of her cargo?

'I suppose I had better stick to the speed limit,' she grinned, 'Polly is sure to tell her father I have been speeding.'

'Indeed, miss.' He smiled. Polly was the granddaughter he would never have.

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Phryne had no idea she was being watched as she pulled up outside the station and lifted her baby to cradle her in one arm, while swinging the hamper out with the other. She tripped lightly inside and greeted Hugh with her usual cheery 'Good morning,' and put the basket on the counter. 'This should keep your strength up until you get back for dinner.'

'Thanks, miss.' He smiled, 'it is a bit of a trek.'

'Phryne!' Jack came out of his office having heard his wife's cheerful voice. 'You haven't brought Polly in the car?' His eyebrows almost hit his hairline.

'I kept to the speed limit,' she pouted. 'Ask her.'

He shook his head and looked at his daughter, peacefully and blissfully unaware of her parents differences regarding driving.

'Well...' he teased, 'she looks none the worse for it.'

Phryne grinned, and kissed him, lightly. There was no reason to hide their love anymore, anywhere. 'Well, off you go, then.' She headed out, 'back for dinner?'

'Should be.' He grinned and walked with her to the car, where she placed the baby back in her basket and he kissed her, properly before she got into the driver's seat and drove off waving, 'Bye, Jack!'

He waved.

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Back at Wardlow, Phryne fed Portia and spent some time with Dot, who was feeling the benefit of rest and was happily knitting in the parlour.

'Are you taking Miss Portia for her walk, today, Miss?' Dot looked up as she started another row.

'Mmm..' Phryne smiled, 'do you feel up to joining us?'

'Perhaps later in the week,' Dot agreed, 'I feel much more energised now.'

'See, taking Mac's advice works.'

'Yes, miss.' Dot gave a wry smile.

'Well, for most of us.'

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Phryne was used to her wander along the esplanade now, used to seeing the same people, some with prams, some with small children and they would engage in small talk, remarking how each child had grown. Much as she liked it she also was pleased to see Concetta on occasion, and talk about the language lessons she gave, what her William did, nothing too exciting, she said, he was the manager of a small chain of fruiterers.

She was just considering turning back when she was bumped by another woman. The rocking of the pram disturbed Polly who grumbled. The woman didn't apologise, in spite of the glare she got from Mrs Robinson, who bent down to soothe the child.

'Sh.. sweetie,' she murmured, not paying attention, 'everything's alright.'

'Is it?' The woman almost snarled.

Phryne looked up, straight into Rosie Sanderson's narrowed eyes.

'Rosie,' she gasped, 'I didn't know you were back in Melbourne.'

'Who's is it?' She nodded to the pram.

'Mine and Jack's.' Phryne was sure she knew, surely she had to, didn't she? It had been in all the papers.

'That's what you told him.' She took a step forward, 'but who's bastard is it, really.'

Phryne bridled at this, that she would have passed another man's child off as her husband's, and that she referred to her daughter as illegitimate.

'I assure you, Miss Sanderson,' Phryne hissed through clenched teeth, 'she is Jack's daughter.' Jack had always been sure Rosie blamed him for their childlessness, but in reality...

Rosie moved close to her, close enough for her to smell the gin on her breath, Rosie was drunk! Phryne gripped the handle and prepared to move off, get home. But Rosie was not going to let her get away that easily, and she knew that Jack had headed off on some mission or other, so she could finally get her claws into the woman who, in her eyes, stole her husband. She put her hand on the side of the pram and rocked it, hard. Polly woke and started to cry.

'Stop it.' Phryne whispered, 'leave us alone.'

Rosie's only answer was to lean even closer and rock the pram so hard it nearly tipped over, and with the other hand she pushed Phryne.

'Rosie! Let go!' Phryne raised her voice. 'You'll have it over..my baby!'

'You took my husband, she...' she nodded at the, now screaming, baby. 'should have been mine.' Spittle rained down on Phryne's coat.

'It's not my fault you didn't have children,' Phryne hissed, 'maybe you should have seen a doctor. Jack wanted you to.'

Rosie raised her hand and, before Phryne could move, slapped her rival hard across the face, dragging her nails down her cheek. Before Polly, before Jack, Phryne would have replied similarly, but not now, now she put her hand to the stinging cheek, and tried to walk away. Rosie was going to have one last go and pushed the pram so it tipped onto its side, Polly rolling out onto the grass verge, thankfully, the other side was the road.

'Polly!' Phryne screamed and bent down to pick up her screaming daughter, 'you bitch!' She turned to Rosie while trying to soothe her daughter.

'Phryne!' A familiar voice with an Italian accent cut through the baby's cries. 'Phryne!'

Rosie turned and walked off, quickly.

Concetta put her arms round Phryne, 'Come, home. Then we call your doctor.' She soothed and guided her down towards Wardlow. 'It is good she cries,' she offered.

'Oh Concetta,' Phryne tried to hold her tears in, 'I didn't think she would do something like this, I didn't know she was in town.'

'Well, maybe she would not want to see you, really.' Concetta kept one arm round her shoulders, 'but why now?'

'I don't know.' Phryne sniffed, 'strange she should choose a time when Jack is out of the city. Do you think she was watching me?'

'Jack will find out.' They arrived at the house, 'come, now we look to the bambina and you.'

Polly's screams could be heard in the house and Mr Butler had opened the door before they got there. He didn't like seeing his mistress in tears, the baby screaming and a strange woman comforting her. That, he would see to later, first Mrs Robinson and Miss Polly.

'Please call Mrs Robinson's doctor.' Concetta smiled, 'the baby has been thrown out of the pram.'

'Miss?' Mr Butler headed for the phone, 'what happened?' He dialled the hospital.

'Rosie,' Phryne didn't bother to hold her tears in check, 'she pushed the pram over, Polly rolled onto the grass verge.'

'Miss?' Dot came out of the parlour, took stock and ushered the two women into the room and sat Phryne down on the chaise.

Concetta told what she had seen and introduced herself.

'Now, Phryne,' she turned back to Mrs Robinson, 'why don't you see if a feed will calm her?'

Phryne looked up,

'I may not have children of my own, but I am Italian...' she smiled.

Dot helped her out of her coat and unbuttoned her blouse, Phryne was shaking too much to do it herself. Polly latched on with no trouble, and Dot draped a shawl over them so when Mr Butler came in to say Dr Macmillan was on her way, she was decent.

'Some tea, please, Mr Butler,' Dot suggested.

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Mac came in to the parlour, not sure what she would find. All Mr Butler had been able to say was his mistress had returned from her daily walk in tears and the baby in her arms, screaming to wake the city, having been, apparently, thrown from her pram.

Phryne's tears had stopped and Polly was suckling well, but she was obviously badly shaken.

Concetta told the doctor what had happened, and that the baby had made enough noise when she had fallen, 'a good sign, yes?'

'Yes, a very good sign,' Mac smiled at Phryne, 'now, let's have a look at her.' Mac examined her as best she could while she was still attached to her mother, then waited until she was satisfied.

'Can you undress her for me, Phryne, dear?' Mac asked quietly, 'I'll give her the once over, but at the moment she seems fine.'

Polly was pronounced fit and well, the little bit of dirt washed off her head showed no external injuries, and they were just re-dressing her when Violet returned from having tea with Phryne's parents.

She was horrified at what her former daughter in law had done, and that she seemed to be drunk at the time.

'Can you put Portia in the cradle, please,' Mac passed the baby to her grandmother, 'I want to have a look at Phryne.' She turned to her dear friend, 'now what about you? She obviously hit you.'

Phryne nodded, watching Violet put her baby down, gently, and cover her with the soft blankets.

'She slapped me and scratched me with her nails.' Phryne went to touch the stinging skin, Mac gently pulled her hand down.

'Dorothy...' Mac turned to ask Dot to bring her some warm water, gauze and antiseptic, but Dot had already thought of that and silently held out the bowl with one hand and the gauze with the other, '...thank you.' Mac smiled.

The scratches cleaned, Mac noted she would probably have a little bruising round the edge of her eye. 'No makeup until they are properly healed.' She instructed, 'It will stop the healing process and may cause a slight infection.'

Phryne nodded, dully.

'Now, I suggest you try and have a nap, down here is fine.' Dr Macmillan patted her hand, 'Portia is going to be fine, really.' She helped Phryne put her feet up, Dot lay a blanket over her and sat next to her, stroking her hand, which she knew would relax her and send her to sleep.

'Thank you, Mrs Strano,' Dot looked up at Concetta, 'for bringing them home.'

'My pleasure, Mrs Collins.' Concetta smiled, 'perhaps I could call in a few days, to see how they are?'

'I think she'd like that.' Dot smiled back.

Violet showed her out again thanking her for ensuring their safety.

'Will you tell Jack?' Concetta asked.

'I'll have to, she was his wife.' Violet nodded sadly, 'very different to Phryne, she tried to change him, make him take promotions he wasn't interested in. Phryne lets him be who he is, as he does her.'

'They are good people.' Concetta said good bye and promised to call in a couple of days, but if Jack wanted to speak to her about the incident, she left her address.

'Thank you, I'm sure he will.' Violet watched her walk down the path and smiled at Phryne's good fortune to have a friend who took the same walk.

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So what will Jack say and do when he finds out his ex has assaulted his wife and child. Do the two missing girls have anything to do with it.

Bijoux53, thank you for your comments and no, sadly I didn't see the Blake exhibition, living in the UK I had to content myself with what I could find on the internet.


	20. Chapter 20

Finally I have finished this chapter. It has sat on the computer since I finished the last one. Work and pantomime season got in the way, but mostly the muse took an extended holiday regarding MFMM. I hope you enjoy the latest in the lives of the Robinsons.

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Jack sauntered up the path thinking about the day's work. Phryne had hit the nail on the head when she suggested the two girls had just decided the city was not for them and headed home. It hadn't occurred to either of them that anyone would look for them and the good old fashioned talking to they got from Inspector Robinson had been somewhat sobering. He had threatened to charge them both with wasting police time, but settled for a lecture on things that happen to young girls alone in the city, how much people cared, cared enough to call the powers that be when they disappear.

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'A note would have been acceptable,' Jack finished off with, 'even if you just left it on the pillow.'

They stood like two school girls instead of young adults. 'Sorry Inspector,' they looked down and muttered.

'Why, girls?' Jack sighed, 'why did you leave? The people at the hostel seem nice, kind, caring. So why?'

'The ladies who run the place,' one of the girls looked up, 'they seemed nice, at first. Then they started asking us if we had seen anything interesting around the city, what did we think of the people...'

'...I saw one of the women looking at a silk handkerchief and saying it wasn't good enough, you can't sell them on, to one of the other girls.' the other girl muttered.

'Yeah,' the other one became a little more animated, 'and there were other things too.'

'Such as?' Jack looked at her.

'Wallets, watch chains...' she thought, gazing at the ceiling.

'Really,' Jack thought back to stories told to him as a child, Oliver Twist, to be precise. Surely that kind of thing didn't go on in this day and age. But times were hard.

'We were taken out with one of the older girls and shown...' she blushed, 'we were...'

'Surprised?' Jack hummed, 'shocked?'

'Bloody terrified,' the first girl gasped, 'I mean, we were told it was a condition...you know, to stay.'

'So,' Hugh interrupted, 'in return for picking pockets you would be allowed to stay in the hostel...'

'S'about right,' the second girl sniffed. 'A room, food and no questions asked.'

Jack raised an eyebrow, '...but that wasn't what you wanted.'

'God know!' she huffed, 'we were prepared to find a proper job and work, save some money, the usual.'

Jack and Hugh left some time later, still scratching their heads.

They discussed it on the way home, how they could expose the hostel for what it was. A den of thieves, rather like Fagin's.

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He let himself in, prepared to tell Phryne she had been right, but not for completely the right reasons. It was quiet, he assumed Phryne would be in the parlour but before he could finish hanging his coat up Mr Butler was there.

'Inspector,' he took Jack's coat and hat, 'before you go into the parlour I should warn you there has been an incident. Mrs Robinson was assaulted on her walk, she and Miss Polly are alright but...' he didn't finish as Jack had already run into the room to see his wife asleep on the chaise and Dot and his mother sitting quietly knitting and reading respectively, while Polly slept in the cradle.

He pulled up short at the sight of his wife, not that she was asleep but at the emerging bruise and scratches on the side of her beautiful face.

Violet stood up,

'Jack,' she put the flat of her hand on his chest, 'she's alright. Shocked, unnerved, but otherwise, it is just the scratches.'

'Who? What?' He gasped.

'Rosie.' Violet said, simply.

He sat on the edge of the chaise and gently lifted Phryne's hand to his lips. She murmured and started to wake. Opening her eyes she gave a slight smile.

'Jack,' she breathed. 'You're back.' She pushed herself up to sit next to him.

He put his arms round her and kissed the top of her head.

'What happened?' He cupped her face with his hand and looked into her eyes.

'Rosie didn't like that I have what she wanted.' Phryne didn't want him to be too concerned, 'she was drunk, gin. She accused me of taking you from her, and said that Polly isn't yours. She called her a bastard. She rocked the pram and tipped it over, hit me and scratched me.'

'My darling,' he held her tight, 'I had no idea she would feel like this, or do anything to hurt a child. I didn't even know she was in Melbourne.'

'I was lucky Concetta was taking her stroll as well,' Phryne lay her head on his chest, 'she saw and called out. Rosie walked away.'

'Mrs Strano brought them home,' Dot took over the story. 'She stayed until Dr Macmillan had checked them both over, and says if you need to speak to her, to call. She's left her address.'

'I will speak to her,' he looked down at his wife, 'you said you'd invited her for tea?'

Phryne nodded.

'Well, perhaps, if you feel up to it, tomorrow?' Jack smiled, just grateful neither were more hurt, 'I'll come home and talk to her here.'

'Alright.'

'And if you decide to go for a walk, I want my mother or yours to accompany you.' He stated, quite firmly.

'Not until this is healed,' Phryne pouted, 'Mac won't let me put makeup on and...'

Jack smiled, he knew she would never appear in public without, at least, a light covering of makeup.

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Phryne fed Polly and settled her before dinner. The baby seemed quite unperturbed now, but her mother spent a little longer singing to her and snuffling against the soft downy hair. She was surprised to realise just how rattled she was with Rosie's attack. She's been in danger before, but, she reasoned, she wasn't out with her baby then. Perhaps Jack's day would take her mind of it.

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When he told her what he had found out from the girls she was aghast and echoed his thoughts about Fagin.

'Seriously, Jack,' she laughed over her dessert, 'a gang of pick pockets, in this day and age? What are they doing with the stuff they pinch? Surely they need to sell it to make it worthwhile.'

'Well, yes,' he agreed, 'so I suppose it's read the petty theft files and then peruse the pawn shops.'

'How exciting,' Phryne teased, 'perhaps I could do that for you, when you know what you're looking for.'

He looked over at her. It would do her good to be doing something, her interest in the case indicated to him she was beginning to feel bored, helping sort out this case would not be too much for her, but would let her feel useful again.

'Missing it?' He smiled.

'A little, now I'm allowed out and about.' She admitted, 'I could do this for you, couldn't I? Going for a walk with Polly in the pram, perhaps do a little shopping. She needs some more clothes and I'm sure your mother would be happy to accompany me.'

There was no point in trying to look as if he was concerned about her being out in the city, 'Alright.' He nodded, 'I'll bring the files home, you and mother can go through them then you should be alright to go out into town, if your scratches have healed.. How does that sound? You can shop for baby clothes to your heart's content.'

'That sounds perfect.' she reached over and squeezed his hand, 'and your mother can help me choose suitable, appropriate outfits for your daughter.'

He laughed, 'Not Madame Fleuri then?'

'I don't think Madame would know what to make for a baby.' She beamed at him, glad to have something to smile about, apart from Polly, who constantly made her smile.

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Violet was delighted to be asked to help solve a crime. She heard all about some of the cases Jack and Phryne had worked on, together and separately, but this was the first time she had ever been asked to help.

They lay Polly in the cradle and started to read the case files. After a while and silent note taking, punctuated with tea and biscuits, Phryne turned to Violet,

'Notice anything similar about the victims?'

'Well, in the cases I've read they are all well to do gentlemen or ladies, of an age, who lose a pocket watch, a wallet, get knocked in a crowd and drop their handbag.' Violet pointed to her neat notes.

'Me too.' Phryne's notes were not so neat but they were readable. '...and in the same areas of Melbourne, the gentlemen's clubs and the department stores.'

'What did Jack say they had done so far?' Violet asked.

'Stepped up beat patrol,' Phryne thought, 'but they haven't noticed anything.'

'Well, if they're visible...' her mother in law hummed with the wisdom of such a position, '... wouldn't you look round to make sure nobody was watching, if...'

'...and a man in uniform is very visible.' Phryne agreed, 'I suppose at least it stops it happening, but it doesn't solve the case, does it?'

'No,' Violet looked at her. The bruise was a lovely shade of purple but could be covered with makeup, it was the scratches... 'I think you and I should go shopping tomorrow.'

'Mac won't let me cover the scratches with make-up.' Phryne pouted.

'True, but the bruise can be and...' she reached over and stroked her hair, still in the short bob, but a little longer than it had been. '... If we brush your hair slightly differently, I'm sure it can be brought round enough to hid the worst of it. Perhaps you have a hair decoration that can be worn during the day.'

'A hat...' Phryne brightened, '...my cloche hats hide my cheeks, well from a distance anyway.'

'Well, that's settled then, and if you want to go for a stroll this afternoon, we can see if anyone notices.' Violet patted her cheek affectionately.

'I think I'd like that.'

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Concetta approached Phryne and Violet smiling,

'I'm so pleased to see you out and about, Phryne,' she kissed both cheeks, 'and you too, Mrs Robinson.'

'Thank you, Mrs Strano,' Violet greeted her, 'and thank you again for looking after Phryne and my granddaughter, yesterday.'

'Concetta,' Phryne took her hand, 'would you walk back with us for tea. Jack would like to talk to you and thinks it would be nicer in our home, over tea.'

'I would love to,' the Italian woman set her pace to match theirs, 'I don't know what I can tell him, but...'

'Just say what you saw.' Phryne said, 'nothing more. It may be that she has done what she wanted and will leave us alone, if not...'

'You will take her to court?'

'I don't know,' Phryne mused, 'I think she is just a disappointed woman. Sad, really, a woman who wanted children didn't have them, and me, who never saw marriage and motherhood as one of her ideals, gets the lot. Funny old life.' She pushed the pram up the path to the back door. 'Mr B!' She called through, 'Mrs Strano is here for tea.'

Mr Butler appeared at the door, 'Very well, Miss,' he smiled, 'the parlour?'

'Of course.' His mistress reached into the pram and lifted out the sleeping baby. 'I need to attend to Polly, she definitely needs changing,' she rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose. 'Violet has brought Mrs Strano in through the front.'

Mr Butler suppressed an amused smile and watched the younger Mrs Robinson, head up to the nursery to deal with Miss Polly.

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Jack hung his hat and coat up and headed straight to the parlour where he could hear happy female voices. He could recognise his wife's and mother's and assumed the other was Concetta. He stood just inside the door and smiled at the sight of the three women taking turns holding the baby and drinking tea.

'Jack!' Phryne grinned, 'just in time for tea.'

Her husband bent and kissed her cheek, 'So I see,' he smiled, 'Concetta, how are you?'

'Very well, thank you, Jack,' Concetta smiled back, 'congratulations, on your marriage and your beautiful daughter. She is quite enchanting.'

'Thank you, ' he sat next to Phryne, 'and thank you for looking after them both.'

'You're very welcome,' Concetta inclined her head almost shyly, 'I'm glad they are alright.'

Jack accepted a cup of tea from his mother and sipped it in silence for a moment.

'You would like to know what I saw,' Concetta began, 'it was quite disconcerting, to see something like that.'

'What happened?'

'Phryne was walking as she always does, down the esplanade, I knew we would pass so I was not in a hurry. Then this other woman came up to her, she walked fast, angrily. She stopped Phryne, I couldn't hear what she said but it obviously upset your wife. Then she rocked the pram and Phryne tried to stop her, she was crying and calling out, the woman hit her and rocked the pram over.'

'Did you know this woman?'

'No, but Phryne tells me it is your ex-wife, I am sorry Jack.'

'Not your fault. Rosie, it appears, is not best pleased that Phryne and I have a child, and she didn't.' Jack replied, sadly. 'I will go and see her, if I can find out where she's staying.'

'Perhaps her father's place.' Violet offered, 'while he is in prison she would be able to use it. No point in paying for a hotel when you have a home to live in.'

Jack hummed, 'I'll try it first. It makes sense, there again, after her assault on Phryne she may have moved on, knowing I would go to speak to her.' He sighed, 'Ah well, I'll be home for dinner.' He stood up and kissed his wife and mother, and smiled at Concetta.

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Rosie opened the door just enough to see Jack standing on the doorstep, turning his hat round by the brim.

'Jack.'

'Rosie, can I have a word, please?' He looked her in the eye, giving her no doubt as to why he was there.

She opened the door just enough to let him in.

The hall was just he remembered it though some of the more expensive ornaments were no longer on show. He decided against making any comment.

'What can I do for you?' she didn't invite him any further in.

'I'll come straight to the point, Miss Sanderson.' Jack became the police officer, 'do not come anywhere near my family again. Your assault on my wife and child was cowardly and totally unwarranted. Any further incidents and I will have you formally charged. Do I make myself clear?'

'Perfectly, Chief Inspector.' She mumbled through gritted teeth. 'Will that be all?'

'It will. Good day to you.' He turned on his heel and left.

Rosie watched him go then closed the door and headed back to the living room to pour herself a drink and think of other ways to get at Phryne Robinson.

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As Jack drove away he knew it was not the end of it, and while he had warned Rosie against any further physical assaults, he was sure she would find other ways to make like uncomfortable for his family. He knew her very well.

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Phryne and Violet spent the next morning working out a plan of action, to catch the pickpockets. They made a list of all the missing objects and after lunch, with a well fed and sleepy baby in the pram, they headed off to peruse the pawn shops.

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It was a thankless task. Much of the stolen property was already sold, too good to last, the 'uncles' said, though some did recognise the items and, by checking their ledgers could account for all the things. All the things were left by a Jane Smith. Phryne rolled her eyes.

'Said she was clearing out her late father's house and had no use for them.' One said. Violet smiled and thanked him, steering Phryne and the pram outside.

'So, now what?' She asked as they stood on the pavement.

'Now, we wander round the department stores where some of the thefts took place,' Phryne grinned, 'aren't we supposed to be shopping for your granddaughter?'

'Of course,' Violet laughed and they headed off to where Phryne had originally stocked the nursery from.

They spent a happy hour or so choosing little dresses, cardigans and leggings for the baby. Bonnets to keep her little head warm, Phryne said they looked like miniature versions of her hats.

They noticed nothing untoward and decided to think about heading home, before Polly woke up for her next feed. Phryne was on the alert not just for pick pockets but also for Rosie, who she was sure would put in an appearance. She had just paid for her purchases when Violet was knocked into her.

'Oh, sorry, dear,' she gasped, 'I didn't hurt you did I? It seems to have got rather busy.'

'I'm fine,' Phryne smiled, 'it's the end of the working day, some people, apparently, do their shopping on the way home. Now, madam is going to wake, so let's head off, shall we?'

Violet turned to the pram, 'Phryne, where's the rattle?' Violet had found a rather lovely silver rattle in one of the pawn shops and decided it was just the thing for Polly. It had been lying at the end of the pram. She lifted the blankets and shook them gently, but it had disappeared.

'Well, what a thing to do, ' Phryne muttered, 'steal a baby's toy. How mean.'

'I was knocked into you.' Violet whispered, 'do you think?'

'I most certainly do.' Phryne gripped the pram handle and set her lips into a thin line, 'stealing from a baby is beyond the pale.' She stomped out of the store and headed in the direction of the hostel.

'Phryne, wait!' Violet called, 'please.' She caught her arm. 'Look, there's a police officer, let's go and talk to him.'

'Violet,' She hissed, 'somebody stole from my baby, as well as all the other thefts. You bought that rattle for Polly, and I want her to have it.'

'So do I, but...' She steered her towards the officer. 'Officer!'

He turned, 'Ma'am?'

'Somebody had taken my granddaughter's silver rattle.' She looked at him, just the type of officer they needed, tall and well built, 'it was here in the pram, I was jostled then it was gone.'

'Are you sure it isn't just caught up in the blankets, madam?' He looked down at the pram.

'Absolutely,' Violet pursed her lips.

'Officer,' Phryne spoke up, 'I believe there have been a number of pick-pocketing incidents around, according to my husband, Chief Inspector Robinson. I do believe we have just become victims.'

The constable had heard about the Robinsons, who, in the Melbourne Force, hadn't?

'Mrs Robinson,' he touched his helmet, 'well, it's true, but we can't catch them.'

'My husband has spoken to two girls who were reported missing from a hostel, they said that they were required to pick pockets and handbags, in order to keep their rooms. That was why they left,' Phryne thought about what Jack had said when he had returned from his trip with Hugh. 'Perhaps we should head over there.'

'Well, Mrs Robinson, with the baby an' all, I don't think that would be wise.' He smiled, 'there's a phone box there, I'll call the Inspector and we'll go.'

Phryne opened her mouth to speak but closed it when Violet touched her gently on the shoulder. She waited until the officer had gone to call the station, 'why don't you take Polly home, I'll wait for Jack. At least I know what we are looking for.'

'Violet...' Phryne pouted, then realised she was right, she couldn't take her daughter with her on a case.

'Polly will need feeding, anyway, and...' Violet smiled.

'Alright, but be careful.' She sighed, 'just because they are girls it doesn't mean they are any less dangerous than men.'

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Jack hadn't wanted to take his mother on a case, but she reasoned she could identify the rattle, and that should be enough to get a search warrant and close down the operation. With the pawnbroker to identify the girls who deposited certain goods it should be a fairly easy end to the case.

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Violet and Jack arrived back at the house nearly four hours later. Violet was quite breathless with excitement and desperate to tell her daughter in law what had happened. As they hung their coats up they heard raised voices from the parlour.

'...safe! I wasn't alone and anyway, why shouldn't I go and buy clothes for my daughter?'

'You put both of you in danger,' Jack recognised Lady Fisher's tone, 'Phryne, you can't take a baby out on cases.'

'I took her shopping, or would you rather she was dressed in gown she was out-growing and wrapped in a threadbare blanket?' Phryne yelled back, 'I will not be kept prisoner in my own home!'

'Phryne!'

'Ladies, ladies...' Jack entered the room, both arms raised in surrender. 'please.' He turned to his mother in law, 'Margaret, there was no danger. Everyday Phryne walks out on the esplanade, she is in no more danger shopping in the city than she is there.' He turned to his wife,

'Phryne, darling, it's alright.' He pulled her close, 'I would never dream of holding you prisoner in your own home. You're right, Polly needs clothes, she is growing fast, and how else are you to get them.'

'Jack,' Margaret implored, 'she was trying to find pick pockets.'

'Yes, Margaret, pick pockets. Not axe wielding murderers or gun toting gangsters. Even if she wasn't actively looking into this case for me she would have been out and about and still may well have had the rattle taken.' Jack passed said item to the mother of his child, 'Now, can we please all settle down, Mr Butler!' he called over his shoulder, 'could we have some tea please?'

'You got it back,' Phryne smiled in delight, 'oh thank you. How..?'

She was almost jealous that it was her mother in law who had been on the search with Jack, almost, until she saw the shine in Violet's eyes.

'It would appear it was a mistake to take something from Phryne Robinson.' Violet waited while Mr Butler brought a tray of tea in. 'They hadn't had time to... what did you call it, dear?' She turned to her son.

'Fence it.'

'Yes, that. The women who run the hostel were just looking over the haul of the day when we arrived. Jack was too quick for them, they didn't have time to hide anything properly and the rattle was still on the table.' She paused the take a sip of tea. Jack took over the story.

'Mother let then have it with both barrels. How they stole from a baby... in that way that only mothers do when they're disappointed with a child. The women just stood there with their mouths open like stranded fish. She told them that it was a despicable idea, training young girls to pick pockets instead of helping them find gainful employment.'

'I suppose you let her carry on.' Phryne grinned, Jack knew better than to interrupt a woman in full flow.

'Better at it than me. I'd have just arrested them and taken them to be charged. I'm hoping the lecture mother gave them will make them think a little harder. She gave the girls a similar lecture.'

'What of the hostel, the girls that are living there?' Phryne asked.

'Because the girls have actually been carrying out the thefts they have been arrested too, their families will be informed, they will be dealt with by the law. The hostel will close; for now.'

'It's such a shame,' Violet noted, 'it's actually a good idea; a safe place for young girls to stay while they find work in the city.'

Margaret listened to it all, and though she had her good works with the hospital in London she couldn't understand why everyone was so concerned with the well-being of girls who were too stupid to see what they were doing was wrong.

'I really don't think it's any concern of yours.' She huffed, 'they must have known what they were doing was criminal.'

'Put in the position they were, they probably had little choice.' Jack turned, surprised at her comment, 'Knowing what was going on and not doing as they were told could have placed them in far more danger than being arrested. The worry that they would inform the police could have threatened their lives. I think the only reason they were reported missing was to see if they had been to tell us the truth, not from any sense of duty of care.'

'Anyway, it's all sorted now,' Phryne smiled, 'I assume it will all go to court and they will spend some time in prison?' She looked expectantly at her husband.

'I'd like to see some of the girls treated gently, they are all a bit young and naive. Some of the older ones, the ones who have been showing them the ropes will, will be jailed for a short term.' He sighed, 'it's all so silly really, and rather sad.'

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The case finished itself, really. Apart from the paperwork there was nothing else to do, so Jack went back to a quieter time. Margaret insisted she accompany Phryne wherever she went, which annoyed her daughter who was sure that if anything happened she would just stand there like a rabbit in the headlights. Violet, she was certain, would have seen any would be robbers off with a flea in their ears.

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Phryne's afternoon strolls along the esplanade continued, either with her mother or with Violet; when she could persuade her mother to spend some time with Henry. Their time in Melbourne was growing short and they still hadn't taken Prudence up on her kind offer of a weekend at her home.

On Mrs Stanley's next visit, she implored her sister to take up the invitation, even though it meant having Henry round her for two days, but she could see Phryne was getting more and more agitated with her mother and father around. Henry was still banished to the garden if he insisted in smoking his awful cigars, Margaret wouldn't let Phryne take Polly out if there was the slightest chance of rain, and if they did go out together she would point out various people, worrying they were likely to attack.

'Mother, for heaven's sake!' Phryne rolled her eyes, 'Melbourne isn't full of potential thugs. It was only Rosie, anyway, and Jack has warned her about approaching me again. Everything will be fine.' She was glad when her parents went to the Stanley residence for the weekend.

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'Do you want to have Polly baptised before your parents leave?' Jack asked one evening as they sat in the parlour. 'Only if you do we'd better see the vicar about it pretty quickly.'

'I suppose time is marching on a bit.' She sighed, leaning against him, 'maybe we've left it too late for them to be involved.'

'I don't know. Perhaps we'd better ask.'

'I'll phone in the morning.' She wriggled against him.

'Phryne...' he warned. 'Mac hasn't given you the all clear yet.'

'We don't have to go all the way,' she smirked and walked her fingers up his tie.

'Not fair, Phryne,' he gritted his teeth and moaned.

She giggled and took him by the tie up the stairs to their room. Polly had not long had a feed so they had some time to call their own. Some time to reacquaint themselves with certain parts of their bodies.

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They were dozing together after plenty of touching, tasting and cuddling when Polly decided it was her turn to have some attention from her mother. Phryne lay against Jack's bare chest as she nursed her daughter, he had his arms round her, protectively, bringing the covers up to leave only her head and the breast Polly was suckling at, free.

Jack nuzzled against her head and smiled.

'What are you thinking?' She asked softly.

'Just that this is something I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams. I keep pinching myself to convince me it is real, you, me and Polly.' he tightened his hold a little. 'I do love you, so very, very much.'

'Oh, Jack.' she breathed. 'I love you too.' She turned her head, 'I never thought that being a wife and mother could be so wonderful. You were right, when you said it was another adventure, I love going on adventures with you.'

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With a bit of pleading and smiling and a hefty donation to the church the baptism was arranged for the Sunday before Henry and Margaret set off back to England. Polly looked positively angelic in the Christening robe and behaved beautifully, screaming the church down as the water was poured over her head. Her godparents, the choice of which Margaret and Henry, or Margaret anyway, had had something to say about, smiled; her mother's daughter. Dr Macmillan, not exactly a believer in God, was surprised but delighted to be appointed godmother as was Jane. They had struggled to think of anyone to be godfather; Hugh would be embarrassed and had converted to the Catholic church, Mr Butler, while wise and devoted to his young mistress, was her employee and therefore they thought he would also be embarrassed. In the end they asked Charlie Charlesworth. They had kept in touch over the months and now they had no excuse not to meet up.

For once, when Phryne said it would be a small celebration, she meant it. The Charlesworths would stay in a hotel, Emily Dunstan was to join the gathering and although Phryne invited Bill, he didn't accept the invitation. Edward wasn't going to come either, but that didn't matter to Phryne, he would only have embarrassed Emily by getting supremely drunk. Apparently, according to Emily's letters, at any function where they appeared as husband and wife he did just that, and the local ladies looked on with pity.

'I try not to suggest he attends much.' Emily sighed, 'he hates it anyway. Most know that when I say he is 'indisposed' I mean he's drunk, and if I do need a male escort it seems to be accepted that Bill is that male.'

Phryne pursed her lips and looked at her.

'Oh I know I'm the subject of gossip, Phryne, dear.' Emily smiled, 'but Bill is well thought of in the town and we never appear to be anything other than employer and employee, and most gatherings are to do with businesses; a time to forge links, so having someone who knows what they are talking about is better than a burbling, slurring drunk.'

It was lovely to catch up with Emily and the Charlesworth's; the children were growing, a fact that did not go un-noticed by the new mother, Phillipe had certainly grown and Lottie was becoming quite the young lady. Jane fell into conversation with them and soon they left the adults and headed out into the garden. Phryne was pleased that they got on well, even if Jane was older than them, it was good that she had company nearer her age than being surrounded by grown-ups.

Polly was passed around until she got fed up and decided to wail, neither of her grandmothers could console her. Phryne held out her arms,

'I think I know what she wants,' she turned to the assembled, 'if you'd excuse us for a while...' She smiled and left them to talk and wonder about her as a mother, as she knew they would.

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She was settled on the bed, leaning against the pillows watching Polly feed when there was a knock at the door,

'Phryne,' it was Cecile, 'Mr Butler has sent you some tea.'

Pulling a silk shawl over her she called out for her friend to enter.

'Come and join me, Cecile,' she held out her hand, 'we haven't had any time to talk.'

Cecile poured a cup of tea and set it on the bedside cabinet, then sat on the edge of the bed.

'I'm so glad everything turned out well for you,' she smiled, 'it's hard to believe it's barely a year since we met on the steamer and here you are, a mother.'

'It was never what I had in mind for my life, but...' Phryne adjusted the baby, 'you know, it's a rather good life, after all. I'm even thinking of adding to the family, a child should have a sibling, don't you think?'

'Goodness, Phryne!' Cecile threw back her head and gave a throaty, and rather sexy, laugh. She thought that must be one thing that Charlie had fallen for, when he knocked her over in the village square.

Phryne made Polly comfortable and they headed back downstairs where she handed the child to her father. Margaret looked at him and raised her eyebrows. While she had seen him cradle his daughter at home she was surprised to see him do so in public. Henry had barely touched the girls when they were babies, and had mainly resorted to beating Phryne when she had been naughty. She preferred the way Jack was towards his daughter, knowing he would never beat Polly but try and reason with her, or stop some privileges should she misbehave; which was a surety as she was Phryne's daughter!

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Nobody stayed too late, but Phryne had taken Polly for another feed and settled her in the bassinet. She did go downstairs for a little while but when she stifled a yawn Prudence tactfully said she would take her leave. As Phryne saw her out she kissed her niece's cheek.

'It was a lovely baptism, dear. Polly looked beautiful.'

'Thank you for letting us use the gown, Aunt P,' Phryne smiled, gently, 'it was extremely kind of you.'

'No dear, it was good of you to use it.'

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So, we still don't know what Rosie will do next. I guess I'll have to write another chapter, if you want one. Though I will try not to take as long with it.


	21. Chapter 21

Rosie crumpled up the paper, growling at the picture of the Robinsons at the christening of their daughter. She still couldn't reconcile herself to the fact that it was probably her that couldn't have children, and she determined to make Phryne Robinson's life hell. But how? Any physical action would see her arrested and charged with assault. She had lived with the police all her life and was aware that psychological terror could be visited on her prey.

She listed the possibilities in her head:

Silent phone calls,

Letters formed from cut out newspaper,

Nasty things left on the doorstep,

Something in the milk to make it taste bad;

but nothing that would cause actual bodily harm.

And so it began.

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Phryne was sitting on the rug in the parlour with Polly lying on her front and trying her hardest to lift her head. Phryne kept telling her what a clever girl she was and Polly replied by blowing bubbles and giving her a toothless grin. She heard the phone ring but, knowing Mr Butler was about, ignored it.

'Robinson residence.' She heard from the hall. 'Hello...Hello.' The phone was replaced in its cradle.

'Who was it, Mr B!' She called.

'No idea, miss,' he poked his head through the door. 'There was someone there, I'm sure of that, but they declined to speak.'

'Oh, wrong number?'

'Could be.' He smiled, 'tea, miss?'

'Lovely.' She turned her attention to Polly who had successfully rolled onto her back and was stretching and kicking her legs, waving her arms about.

Phryne laughed and pulled her up into her arms, then swung her over her head. With the baby and Jack in her life, she wasn't bothered about wrong numbers on the telephone.

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Rosie was annoyed that it was Mr Butler who answered the phone and had quickly severed the connection. She would have to judge the time a bit better next time. She started cutting letters out of the newspaper. The wording would have to be strong, but not the kind of thing they would expect from her. So adjectives describing her previous way of life were out, so were death threats, those they ran through her head on an hourly basis.

She took another mouthful of gin, funny how she had never been a drinker, just the odd glass of wine with her dinner; now she couldn't get through the day without copious amounts of the strong liquor. It numbed her senses, helped her forget, but it hindered her thinking of things to send in the letters.

Out in her father's garden, now sadly neglected, she found a dead bird. The maggots had started on it and she had a thought, a most unpleasant thought. She went inside and found a pair of old gloves and a box. Back in the garden she scooped up the bird into the box, smiling to herself.

Inside the house she wrapped the bird in tissue paper, lay it in a nest of more tissue and covered it. Putting the lid on, she wrapped the box in brown paper, tied it with string and addressed it to 'The Honourable Phryne Robinson', in block capital letters so unlike her own handwriting. Deciding to send it through the Melbourne post, it would rot even more, she cleaned her teeth to get rid of the smell of gin and headed out to the post office.

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Polly had begun to almost sleep through the night. Mac said she was growing well and, at Phryne's twelve week check she declared the mother fit for active duty!

'Jack will be pleased,' she grinned.

'Not only Jack,' Mac laughed, 'knowing you.'

'Doctor, you make me sound like a nymphomaniac!'

'No, just a normal healthy woman.' Mac patted her cheek and filled out the notes in her file. 'Now, it's at this point I usually talk about preventative measures, if the mother wants a rest before the next child.'

'Really, I thought...'

'It's usually only things like understanding that every time a woman is intimate she runs the risk of another pregnancy. As you know I'm not supposed to provide any actual equipment.'

'Well, do you think I need another device, or will the old one be ok?' Phryne thought a two year gap between her children, if she was going to have another, would be good.

'I should fit you for another, just in case.' Mac agreed, 'it's up to you whether or not you use it.'

'Thank you, Mac.'

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Jack arrived home while Polly was being fed.

'How was your appointment with Mac?' He draped his jacket over a chair in the bedroom and sat on the end of the bed facing her.

'Good. I'm fit for active duty,' she smirked, 'she's going to fit me for another device in case I decide not to risk another pregnancy. Polly is doing everything she should and I've been given permission to try her on something more than milk.'

'Like what?' He wondered what on earth a toothless child could possibly eat.

'Anything mashed or pureed. Nothing too rich or creamy. We tried potato today.' Phryne looked at her daughter with pride.

'And...'

'It was really funny. She kind of rolled it around in her mouth and half of it came out again, but, all things considered, a success!'

'Our little girl is growing up, it would seem.' He moved further up the bed and watched still fascinated.

'Mmm...' Phryne hummed, more to herself than anything, 'there will come a time when she can't stay in the bedroom with us.'

'Quite, that part of her education can wait some years.' Jack smirked, 'now that she almost goes through the night perhaps she should go into the nursery.' He watched for her reaction.

'I suppose so, we could try it.' She looked into his eyes, 'We must try it,' she drew herself up, 'she is a little big for the bassinet, anyway. She has a lovely cot in her room, and a few soft toys.'

'I know, it'll be strange, not having her snuffling beside the bed, but, if you can't let her go into the nursery how will you let her go to school?'

Phryne finished feeding Polly and handed her to her father,

'I must be getting soft,' she looked over her shoulder as she headed to the bathroom. 'I'm going to have a bath, why don't you settle her down...' She adopted a sultry tone.

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She lay draped over his chest, satisfied with his ministrations. They had indulged while she was pregnant but as she got bigger it got more difficult in the bath.

He trickled water down her back, making her shiver. She lifted her head and moved herself up his body to kiss him. He dropped the sponge into the bath and ran his hands down her spine to cradle her bottom. It was not his finger she felt as she wriggled against him.

'Jack...' she moaned into his mouth, 'oh, Jack.' His fingers began to explore, sliding over her folds then dipping in and out until she was calling for him, 'Please, Jack! Now!' It wasn't often she begged but it had been a while since they had been able to spend so much time in the bath, together, Polly would always disturb them, but now it would seem she was going to let her parents have some peace. He lowered her down and she reached between their wet bodies to touch him and feel him begin to throb as she slowly slid over him. The rhythm was slow, at first, then as he urged her on to oblivion the water sloshed around them and over the side of the bath until she arched and screamed his name before falling onto his chest again, breathless and pink.

'Definitely fit for duty,' he murmured into her hair.

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Jack kissed Phryne good bye and headed off to the station. They had a shipment of rum and brandy to deal with, that was being sold under the counter at bars, and in back alleys. These smugglers were devious and so far they had been unable to find where it was coming from. He was on the point of asking his wife to do some undercover detective work, but decided against it, when one of his officers was shot. It was not a fatal wound but he would be out of action for a couple of weeks. Their investigations were centred on the docks. As he took his coat and hat the phone rang. He answered it, wondering if it would be another of the silent calls they had been receiving, but no, it was Hugh. He was calling to say Dot was close to giving birth, having been taken into hospital the previous evening, and he wanted to stay there.

'Of course, Collins,' Jack smiled, who was he to deny him this? 'Let us know what happens, I think Phryne will be in, or Mr Butler will take a message. Give Dorothy our love.' As he put the phone down he realised it was a strange thing to say to his Senior Constable, but they were friends as well, off duty. He told Phryne who grinned remembering the conversation she had had with her companion about where she was giving birth. Dot had opted to go into hospital, less confident that Phryne about the whole thing, even after seeing how easily her mistress had coped. Mac was in attendance so she knew she was in good hands.

'Post, miss.' Mr Butler placed the letters and a box on the table.

'Oh, wonder who sent that. It's nobody's birthday...'

'It will be your wedding anniversary next week, miss,' Mr Butler started to clear the table. 'Will there be a celebration?'

'Commiseration with Jack, it should be. Putting up with me for a whole year.' She pouted, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

'He looks rather well on it, if I may say so.' He smiled gently back.

'You may, and thank you.' She tipped her head in thought. 'You know, Mr B, a party is definitely called for, it has been a year to celebrate. Family and friends, I think, I rather enjoyed the intimacy of Polly's baptism. Gosh, am I getting old?'

'Not you miss, never you.' He murmured just loud enough for her to hear.

'Best send out some invitations, I'll ask Jack what he would like to do, later.' She turned her attention to the box that had initiated the conversation.

'Oh, my god!' She screamed, 'who the ...'

'Miss?' Mr B was immediately by her side to see what had caused the sudden outburst. He picked up the box and took it out to the kitchen. The bird was riddled with maggots and the smell was intolerable. Violet was taking some washing out to hang on the line,

'Goodness, Mr Butler,' she gasped, putting one hand over her nose, 'what on earth is that?'

'It was sent in the post for Miss Fisher.' He only called her Miss Fisher when Mrs Robinson senior was around. 'A dead bird, long dead by the look of it.'

'How revolting.' Violet grimaced, 'who by? Oh, I suppose there was no name on it.'

'No.' Mr Butler went outside, holding the offending object at arm's length. 'I will have to keep it for the Inspector to see,' he thought, 'in this outbuilding, I think, it's the coldest.'

'Is Phryne alright?'

'Unlikely. I'm afraid my priority was to get it out of the dining room.'

'Right, I'll go to her,' she put the basket of laundry on the kitchen table and headed into the dining room.

Phryne was nursing a glass of water, her face almost ashen. She'd had insulting letters, even death threats through the post, but nothing as revolting and nauseating as a dead, putrefying bird, or any animal, come to that.

'Phryne, dear. Are you alright?' Violet sat next to her and put her arm round her shoulders.

Phryne shook her head and gave her a wan smile, 'Rather shocked, to be honest, but I'll get over it.' She smiled again, this time more broadly, but Violet wasn't fooled.

'You will tell Jack, won't you?'

'I don't want to worry him.' Phryne grimaced, knowing in her heart he would have to know. 'But, I suppose I shall have to.'

'Mr Butler has put it in one of the outhouses for now.' Violet stood up, satisfied that Phryne had come to no actual harm, apart from to her sensibilities. 'I'll go back to what I was doing, shout if you need anything.'

'I think I'll take Polly for a walk, it's a lovely morning.' Phryne pushed her chair back and smiled at her mother in law, 'thank you, Violet, everything will be ok.'

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As Phryne usually took her walk in the afternoon she did not meet Concetta. Other mothers and nannies stopped to pass the time of day but, otherwise, it was an unremarkable stroll; which was just what she wanted. She sat for a while in the Botanical Gardens and watched some small children playing with their carers, thinking into the future when that would be Polly, running around, skinning her knees, finding things on the ground. When she was old enough she would take her over to young Freddy, and teach her to climb trees. Looking at her watch she determined she had better head home before Polly decided it was feeding time. Today they were going to try her on mashed banana and stewed apple.

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Her timing was perfect. Polly was ready for a change and a feed, Mr Butler and Violet had prepared the fruit for the child to sample and it awaited her in the kitchen.

'I'll give her, her main feed first,' Phryne grinned, heading upstairs, 'then we'll try the fruit. Should be interesting.'

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Indeed the new food did prove interesting. Polly, it would seem, was a quick learner and less of the mush found its way down her chin. Either that or she preferred the sweeter taste to that of the rather bland potato she had been given the previous day. She smacked her lips over the banana more than the apple, but when the two were tried together Phryne swore she rolled her eyes in pleasure.

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Within a month Polly was almost completely weaned. Phryne fed her morning and night, with a little suckle after her midday meal, and mid morning and afternoon, but milk was now not her main source of nourishment. Mac declared her, her mother's daughter and told Phryne that her milk would gradually dry up as Polly fed less off her.

'Oh,' Phryne looked thoughtful, 'well I suppose it would have to, can't have her crawling under my blouse when she starts school.' She shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

'You found it better than you thought you would, didn't you?' Mac smiled tenderly.

'I found the whole thing better than I thought I would, Mac,' she looked across the sitting room at her oldest friend, 'I thought I'd feel heavy, tied and tired, but I don't. With Jack and Polly I feel complete, content, oh hell, Mac, I'm getting soppy. Do you think I've lost my marbles?'

'Darling, you lost those years ago,' Mac laughed, 'no, you've just discovered who you are. Like putting the last brick in place on a house, as you say, complete. You never know what you're missing until it turns up. I guess Jack, his love and Polly, her dependence on you, were two missing bricks from your house.'

Phryne grinned,'... much to celebrate then, albeit later than we planned. Do you realise Jack and I have been married over a year?' She changed the subject, 'we were going to have a party on the date, but, somehow, with one thing and another...'

'Have you found out who's sending the nasty mail and revolting parcels?'

'No, but now I don't open any, Mr Butler, who is fast heading for sainthood, has volunteered for this dreadful duty.' She smiled, 'but it did rather curtail any thoughts of a celebration.'

'You'd better remedy that then, immediately.' Mac closed her bag, finished her tea and stood up, 'I shall await my invitation.' She winked and left Phryne to plan a proper party.

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Even with the silent phone calls and the unacceptable gifts life went on smoothly at Wardlow. Jack had asked one of the junior constables to canvas all the post offices in Melbourne, get a name or a description of anyone sending packages to his wife.

'Sorry, sir,' the constable mumbled, 'but they come through at the busiest times, all they can tell me is it is a woman, middle aged. She hides her face, looks down and wears a close fitting hat.

'Damn!' He cursed.

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The delayed celebration of their wedding anniversary took priority for Phryne, discussing the menu with Mr Butler, they had decided to make it a lunch, a long one, but she wanted Polly to be there even though she would have no idea what was going on.

'Phryne, dear,' Aunt Prudence had called round for tea one afternoon. 'May I suggest you hold it at my house. It's bigger and your guests would have more room.'

Indeed Phryne and Jack had wondered about hiring a room at the Windsor. They had decided against a sit down meal, with too many invited to fit round their dining table comfortably.

'I could make a room available for you if you need to see to Polly.'

'Aunt P, that is perfectly sweet of you.' Phryne grinned, 'we were wondering if we would have room for everybody. Are you sure you don't mind?'

'Darling, of course not, I would be honoured,' Prudence smiled, 'but are you sure you don't mind Guy and Isabella being there.'

'Heavens, no! They are family, and maybe I can persuade Isabella that babies aren't that bad.' Phryne laughed at the thought of plonking Polly on her cousin's knee.

'If only...' Aunt Prudence sighed.

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Phryne's household decamped to the Stanley house the night before the party and installed themselves in a suite for the family and a room next door for Violet. A room for Mr Butler was secured near the rest of the household staff. Dot, Hugh and their baby boy, Reggie, would be over early on the day of the celebration; so all was set.

Just to annoy Isabella and Guy, Phryne insisted Polly be in her travelling basket in the dining room during dinner. Aunt Prudence didn't seem to mind a bit, in fact she fussed over her great niece, having her on her knee and feeding her tiny bits of squashed vegetable from her fingers. Phryne hid her smiles in her napkin or by taking a sip of wine as Isabella, at one point, shuddered to see Polly spit out some spinach.

'Don't you like that, kitten?' Mrs Stanley cooed.

'I think the taste is a bit strong for her yet, Aunt Prudence.' Phryne handed her a napkin to wipe the baby's chin and her sleeve.

'Probably.' She agreed.

'Now, if there is some fruit for dessert, she'll enjoy that,' Jack added, 'she has a sweet tooth.'

'She doesn't have any teeth,' Guy guffawed.

'Guy, you really are a twit.' Phryne teased.

'I really don't understand why you don't have a nanny, Phryne..' Isabella questioned, '... I mean, the mess, your gowns.'

Phryne just looked at her, 'Mother didn't have one for me or Janey,' she pointed out, 'so...I thought I'd give it a go. Turns out I actually enjoy spending time with my daughter, don't knock it 'til you've tried it.'

Prudence watched this discourse with amusement, and, taking note of what Jack had said, she pressed some ripe peach flesh onto a spoon and tried Polly with it. She laughed as the baby smacked her lips with pleasure and reached out a chubby hand for the spoon.

'Oh no you don't,' she kissed the still downy head, 'that will go everywhere.' She gave her a little more.

Isabella was obviously not convinced and Phryne could tell she was relieved when she took Polly for her bedtime feed.

'I'll be back down when I've settled her,' she excused herself.

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'So, old chap,' Guy passed Jack a brandy, 'suppose Phryne is rather too busy with the child to pay you much attention. Unless your mother takes Polly out of the way.' This last in a whisper as Violet was chatting happily to Prudence, while Isabella looked on, bored.

'What do you mean, Guy?' Jack was confused, what did his cousin in law think mothers did all day.

'Well, you know...' Though it was clear to Jack, Guy had no idea what a hands on mother actually did. 'The bedroom.'

Jack didn't know whether to laugh or to call him outside and give him a thrashing for insinuating Phryne was no longer interested in, or had time for,

sex. Instead he did neither,

'I think that's between me and my wife.' He turned and went to talk to the ladies, not even Isabella would say anything like that. She would probably talk to Phryne about that, certainly not to him.

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Up in the bedroom Aunt Prudence had had the old cot cleaned and set up for Polly. As Phryne settled her in it she thought she looked rather tiny compared to how she looked in the bassinet. She tucked the blankets tightly round her and leant in to kiss her,

'Sweet dreams my darling child,' she whispered, 'I love you.'

She pulled the cot-side up and secured it in place before checking she was tidy and heading back downstairs to see what mischief her cousin Guy was getting up to. He had said practically nothing at dinner, just listened and watched the ladies and Jack, apart from his silly comment about Polly's dental state.

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Guy was standing alone, gazing out of the window over the garden and the pool beyond.

'Abandoned, Guy?' She teased, helping herself to a small brandy.

'Uh? Oh it's you Phryne.' He turned, 'finished whatever it is you do now?'

She felt a distinct iciness to his tone.

'What's go your goat, Guy?' She perched on the edge of a chair, 'jealous?'

'God know,' he sniffed, 'what have I got to be jealous about?'

'I really don't know, but I get the distinct impression you envy me.' She could almost read her cousin like a book, almost. 'You used to think I was rather brave, being a Lady Detective, at least, that's what you told me, once, brave or foolhardy. Now I have something you don't and I like it, the family life.''

'Well, you used to be such fun,' he looked down on her, 'dancing, drinking, out all night, taking home god knows who...'

'Those days have gone,' She stared into her glass, 'I will still dance if I want to, drink when I want to but there is only one man for me, now...'

'He's a copper, Phryne, not one of our set.' He hissed, 'it was ok when he just hung around with puppy dog eyes, but did you have to go and marry him?'

Phryne was not going to walk away as Jack had done. Guy had insulted her and her husband, who was a hundred, no, a thousand, times the man Guy Stanley was. Handsome, generous, loving, gentle... she could think of any number of adjectives to describe her husband, and she counted herself a very lucky woman that Jack Robinson would think her worthy to be his wife.

'I didn't come here to be insulted,' she snapped.

'No, where do you usually go?' He dropped his glass as the sting of her hand against his cheek made him gasp.

'You are not worthy to breathe the same air as he does,' she snarled, 'he has more honour in his little finger than you have in your entire being, more of a man than you will ever be.' She drained her glass and stormed over to her aunt and the others. 'Will you excuse me Aunt Prudence, the air is rather stale in here, I think I'll go to bed. Goodnight, Isabella, Violet.' She turned to Jack,

'I'll head up too, I think,' he offered her his arm, instantly understanding the look on her face, 'goodnight ladies.'

Prudence watched them go then glared across at her son, he had upset her favourite, and only niece, and that made her angry. She would have strong words with him,

'Study, Guy,' she commanded. 'Now!'

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'What did you say to Phryne?' Mrs Stanley looked up and pursed her lips.

'We traded insults as usual,' he grumbled.

'About Jack?'

'He's a copper, mother, not one of us.' Guy sulked. 'What the hell does she see in him?'

'He's a good man, Guy. He loves her and that is enough.' His mother sat down, 'he has changed her, but in a good way. I've never seen her happier, or more settled.'

'Oh right, so she's now your golden girl, after all she did, how often she disappointed you.'

'I don't think Phryne has ever disappointed me, Guy.' Prudence sighed, 'surprised me, annoyed me on occasion, but, she has never been anything other than true to herself and I find myself admiring her, more and more, for her strength, her capacity to love all those about her, her ability to say to hell with society here I am and here I intend to stay.'

Guy snorted and left with his nose in the air.

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In their bedroom Jack watched his wife take her jewellery off and noticed her white knuckles as she gripped her fascinator.

'Phryne?' He went up behind her, 'what's wrong?'

'Wrong? Why should anything be wrong?' She didn't turn round but in the reflection in the mirror he could see the angry tears she was trying not to shed.

'Oh, I don't know,' he tried to lighten the situation, 'a slap to your cousin's face, angry words, comments about 'stale air', after you have spoken to him...'

She leant into his strong hold, 'he was rude, that's all, about you, about us.' She turned and looked up into his gentle face, 'I won't be insulted, by that lazy, parasite of a being.'

'Oh Phryne, ' he kissed her forehead, 'my champion.'

That made Phryne smile, 'I think that's the wrong way round,' she sniffed.

'This is us, Phryne, darling, I don't care what way round, I'll be your champion when you want me to be.'

'Would you be my champion, now,' she smiled and ran her fingers down the lapel of his evening jacket, 'I think I need rescuing...'

'...from what?'

'Myself.'

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Sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter finished. Hope you like it.


	22. Chapter 22

'Have you got everything, Hugh?' Dot called from the kitchen.

'Just putting Reggie's pram in, then we're all set.' Hugh called cheerfully. Although functions at Mrs Stanley's home were above his social standing, the Inspector and Miss Phryne had been very kind to him and his young wife, in fact, if it hadn't been for her, he and Dot would never have had the chance to get to know each other. Sharing the celebration of their first wedding anniversary was something he was looking forward to, given that he would never have thought it would happen in a million years!

Dot settled young Reggie in his basket on the back seat of the car and sat beside it.

'Can we go over to Wardlow, on the way?' she asked, 'only Miss Phryne wants us to pick up Jane.'

'Didn't she go last night?'

'No, she said she wanted to take something over as a surprise so told Miss she had some homework to finish.' Dot knew what Jane had planned, indeed she had helped her, but she did have the finishing touches to put to it.

'Oh, secrets, eh?' Hugh grinned, Jane had such a big heart and he knew that whatever she had planned for the Robinson's would be driven by love.

'You'll see.' Dot grinned.

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They pulled up outside the Robinson residence just in time to see Rosie Sanderson coming out of the gate. Seeing the car slow down Rosie quickened her pace and was out of sight before Hugh had stopped the car.

'What's she doing here?' Dot mused, getting out and heading up the path. She pulled out her key and let herself in, feeling resistance as she pushed the door. Peering round it she saw a small paper bag and a dreadful smell. Slipping in she called to Jane, who was in the kitchen.

'Hello Dot.' Jane's smile rapidly disappeared as she too was assaulted by the smell. 'God, what is that dreadful pong!'

'Get me some gloves, there are some Mrs Robinson uses when she's gardening, under the sink.' Dot shooed her away and called for Hugh.

In the car he shook his head, 'well, Reggie, my boy, let's go and see what mummy is doing.' Lifting his son out of the basket he headed up the path.

'Dotty?' He peered round the door to see his wife crouching down and carefully picking up a package with gloves and a small shovel. 'What's that?'

'I think we've just found out who's been sending the parcels to Miss Phryne,' she turned and held the shovel at arm's length. 'Kitchen door please, Jane.'

'Who?'

'Who was hurrying away when we drove up?'

'Miss Sanderson...phew!' Hugh let out the breath he was holding, 'well, who'd have thought...'

'Jack's going to be furious. He told her to leave the family alone.' Jane huffed. 'What are we going to do?'

'Put this in the outbuilding, lock up and go over to Mrs Stanley's,' Dot headed out of the kitchen.

As she washed her hands, thoroughly, she suggested they take Jack aside, while Jane showed Phryne the gift she had made, and tell him what they had seen and found.

While they drove over they talked about how they could get more evidence.

'I think we ought to stake her house out, follow her and catch her in the act of sending a parcel, then we'll have the absolute proof,' Jane stared ahead as she thought.

'Who's going to do that, a police officer would be noticeable?' Hugh hummed, 'unless... we have a new junior constable, always trying to prove himself, maybe a bit of plain clothes work...?'

'Could be..' Dot agreed.

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Phryne insisted on staying to hear what her companion had found out, so she and Jack sat aghast as Dot told their story. He stood up and went to the window, hands in pockets he stared ahead as he tried to process what his ex-wife was trying to do to the mother of his child.

'Darling,' Phryne touched his shoulder, 'did you really think she would stop?'

'I had hoped...but I never thought she would stoop so low.' He turned and kissed her forehead, 'are you ok?' They moved a little further away,

'Fine, I'm not the one who had to pick up a dog's mess, it's Dot I feel for,' she smiled. 'I must give her a rise in pay.'

'Mm...well, when we get back I'm going to take Collins up on his idea, young Johnson, put him on watch, plain clothes,' he sighed.

'Just him?' Phryne linked arms with him, 'he'll get tired.'

'I'll see if Collins can work the opposite shift, I don't think Rosie knows him well enough to recognise him out of uniform,' he frowned, 'but it's not going to be easy to catch her. It's got to stop, Phryne, she's a fool, so tied up with her own sorry state.'

'Sad, Jack, but foolish. Was she given to jealousy, when you were married to her?'

'Not jealousy, but she wanted more than I could give her, unless I accepted her father's help in my career. It always seemed undeserved, I wanted to get there on my own merits, not because he was my father in law. I knew I wouldn't have the respect of my men otherwise.' He put his arm round her shoulders and held her close. 'I'm sorry she had to take it out on you, it's me she has the problem with, not you.'

'Oh, I don't know, Jack, I took you from her, or so she thinks. Though I do think you are more than capable of making up your own mind.' She smiled at him.

'It was over the day I came back from the war,' he sighed, 'I had changed, who didn't, she expected everything to go back to how it was, that I would carry on where I left off in the force, we would settle back into married life, but she never understood what it meant to go to war.'

'I don't think anyone who wasn't there understands, totally, lover, how could they? Perhaps that why we can be together, we've seen it, we know what horrors one man can visit on another, that has made us who we are.' She patted his cheek, 'come on, this is supposed to be a celebration, let's forget this for now and go and enjoy teasing Guy and Isabella with babies.' She grinned wickedly, 'I have a fancy to try Polly with chocolate.'

'And you're wearing such a lovely cream dress, this should be fun,' he took her hand and they headed back to Dot and the others each thinking of ways to annoy her cousin and his rather drippy wife.

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Jane was playing with Polly while she waited with Dot to give her guardian her gift. Polly had a fascination for her ribbons and was merrily chewing the ends and dribbling happily.

'Oh, Miss Phryne, are you alright?' Jane jumped up making Polly squeal with surprise, 'only when you went off...'

'I'm perfectly fine, dear, but what about you and Dot? You had the hardest part,' Phryne took her daughter off Jane and handed her a handkerchief.

'I'm fine,' Jane smiled and Dot confirmed she too was unharmed, though she may have to put some particularly strongly perfumed flowers in the hall for a while.

'Good, we shall deal with that when we get home, tomorrow,' she patted Jane's cheek, 'now we shall enjoy ourselves and not worry about it.'

'Where's Jack?' Jane looked round for the Inspector, 'I thought he was with you.'

'Oh, I think he's gone to phone the station, get a patrol to the house, keep an eye out until we get back.' Phryne smiled, 'come on let's go and annoy Guy and Isabella.'

'Miss Phryne,' Jane reached out to take her hand, 'I have a gift, for you and Jack.'

'Oh, darling, how sweet of you,' Phryne stopped and pulled her down to sit on the couch, with her free hand.

'I wanted to show you how much I appreciate all you do for me, and to celebrate your anniversary,' she began to blush, 'I hope you like it,' she added, quietly.

With one arm holding Polly steady on her lap, Phryne unwrapped the flat rectangular parcel to reveal a hand embroidered sampler. Jane had taken a Victorian idea and added their wedding date, Polly's birth date, names, and the obligatory picture in the middle of a family of four people.

'Jane,' Phryne gasped, trying to hold back the tears, 'it's beautiful, and you made it?'

'Dot helped me, but yes,' Jane held her gaze steady, 'I wanted you to have something nobody else would have.'

'Oh darling, I love it, I think I'll hang it in the bedroom,' she looked up to see Jack returning from making the call to the station, 'look what Jane has done for us, darling. Isn't it gorgeous?'

Jack took it and held it at arm's length, 'It is, just perfect, Jane, and how truly thoughtful of you,' he bent and kissed her cheek, 'thank you very much my dear.'

'I thought it should go in our bedroom, darling,' Phryne smiled at him, 'over the bed head?'

'I think that's a lovely idea, darling. I shall hang it when we get back.'

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'What have you done with Polly?' Isabella found Phryne talking to Dr Macmillan who had just arrived.

'Aunt Prudence has her, she's showing her off to her friends,' Phryne grinned, 'I expect she'll find me when Polly needs sustenance.'

'Do you...?' she waved her hands in the vague area of Phryne's breasts.

'Of course,' the mother smiled, 'why not?'

'Er...' for that Isabella didn't have an answer.

'It's most beneficial for both mother and child,' Mac offered, 'helps with recovery from the birth and best for baby.'

'Ri i ight.' Isabella thought for a moment and then linked arms with Phryne, 'shall we go and find some of the Champagne being served.'

'I think Mr Butler will have made me a fruit cocktail,' Phryne linked arms with Mac and they fell into step.

'Not Champagne, Phryne, please god you haven't gone on the wagon?' Isabella rolled her eyes.

'It gives Polly hiccups,' Phryne laughed, 'and she looks so annoyed with herself, it's really rather funny.'

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Mr Butler had indeed made his mistress a fruit concoction, which was both refreshing and not too sweet.

'Where's Guy?' Phryne scanned the guests and the grounds, 'I can't see him.' She was just a tad worried he was going to pick a fight with Jack, one he had no chance of winning, she, herself, had bested her cousin many times growing up.

'Probably sulking in the library,' Isabella sniffed, 'I must apologise for whatever he said to you last night, Phryne, he's being the most insufferable prig at the moment. I don't know what's got into him.'

'Don't worry, I can handle Guy, if you don't mind, it's just I don't like being insulted the way he did last night,' Phryne sipped her drink, 'he has a rather pompous view of people who don't come from his social class.'

'Phryne, dear,' Aunt Prudence held out the baby, 'I think this is something only you can solve.'

'Thirsty, darling?' she took the baby who instantly turned to her breast. 'Right, if you'll excuse me.' She turned and walked quickly into the house, talking to Polly and jiggling her on her hip.

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'It's so nice to see you getting on with Phryne, dear,' Prudence turned to Isabella, 'I never understood why you always seemed to be at odds.'

'I suppose we are such different people, Prudence,' Isabella smiled, taking another glass of Champagne, 'she's changed though, I suppose that's your fault, Inspector,' she turned to Jack.

'Guilty as charged,' he grinned, 'though I wouldn't say she has changed, not really.'

'Well, having a baby...' Isabella pointed out, 'I mean, Phryne, as a mother...'

'...and a very good one she is too,' Mac intervened.

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Phryne made herself comfortable on the bed in their suite and saw to her daughter's needs. In the quiet of the room she thought about Rosie's behaviour. Clearly the woman needed help to cope with the disappointments in her life; a failed marriage, no children and her father, once an important man in the city, nothing more than a white slaver. It was all rather sad, she thought.

Polly dozed off and slipped from the source of her nourishment, but Phryne still sat there wondering about Rosie. Disgusted as she was at the things she had done, she, Phryne, wanted to help her rather than see her punished. Perhaps Mac would have an idea.

She tidied herself up then took her sleeping daughter down to tuck her up in the pram and wheel her round the gardens.

She was miles away when Guy sidled up to her.

'Sorry old thing,' he whispered, 'I was wrong, I shouldn't have said that, about your Inspector, you were always going to do things different to what was expected of you.'

'Hm... well, perhaps you should think before you speak, in future, Guy.'

'Yes, I should,' he pecked her on the cheek and walked off.

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Phryne found Mac, eventually, chatting away to Jack. She looked serious and Phryne wondered if he had had the same idea as her, about asking Mac for help with Rosie.

'... I'll certainly do what I can to help, Jack,' Mac was agreeing to something, 'it sounds as if it is more a psychiatric problem, with some vindictive undertones.'

'Rosie?' she asked.

'Ah, Phryne,' Mac smiled, 'yes. Jack was just telling me what has been found today, poor Dot, to be faced with that.'

'Quite,' Phryne nodded her agreement, 'but what are we going to do about it?'

'Well, as Jack has suggested...'

'...actually it was Collins' idea,' he corrected her.

'ok, as Hugh has suggested,' she grinned, 'you have to catch her, and with stealth is a good idea. If you arrest her, Jack, you could call me in to do an evaluation on her mental wellbeing, though I'm not a psychiatrist.'

'Bet you know one or two, though,' he added, 'one that might be sympathetic or more realistic in their approach. If she's charged with using the postal system for malicious intent it will go through the courts and she will end up in prison. Not a place I would want her to be.'

'Or me,' Phryne agreed, 'there are crimes and there are crimes, and some need handling differently, not imprisonment, but perhaps therapy of some sort.'

'Indeed,' Mac smiled, 'leave it with me.'

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The rest of the day passed pleasantly, with Polly being cooed over and handed round, alternately loving and hating the attention, depending on who was holding her at the time. Aunt Prudence was lovely and cuddly, but others were a bit on the bony and uncomfortable side, with no idea how to hold a baby. Isabella and Guy managed to have their hands full every time Phryne offered the child to them, and they would back off.

She did indeed try the baby with some chocolate, from a dessert she was eating, and true to form Polly rather took to the sweet treat, dribbling it down her chin, only to have it wiped away by her amused mother.

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Back in St Kilda, Rosie had noticed an increased police presence along the esplanade, especially past 221B. She decided she'd better hold off for a while, perhaps she had been recognised by those in the car when she delivered her latest offering. It would give her time to compose the next letter or think about the next 'gift' she could send.

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'So, you see, Johnson,' Inspector Robinson sat behind his desk steepling his fingers, 'it's important you are not noticed by the home owner. If she comes out carrying a letter or a parcel somehow she has to be caught in the act of sending it, or you need to see the addressee. If it's addressed to 'The Honourable Phryne Robinson,' invite her to the station.'

'If she refuses to come quietly, sir?' Johnson stood tall and stiff.

'Arrest her, suspicion of sending malicious packages and letters.' Jack sighed, 'it's going to be a bit boring, I'm afraid, but this has to stop and we are pretty sure she is the one sending such things.'

'Right, sir,' Johnson was looking forward to this. He had seen the Inspector's wife only once, and she seemed like a decent sort.

'Collins will relieve you later,' Jack sent him on his way, to go and change into civilian clothing and armed with Rosie's address.

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For almost a week Johnson and Collins watched the house. Sometimes they would wander past, pick up an imaginary coin from the pavement, sometimes sit on a bench just out of sight of the front reading a paper or a book. They never wore the same clothes twice and only occasionally acknowledged each other at the change over, with a nod, or touch to the cap or hat.

It was at one of these change overs, when Johnson asked Hugh for a light that they noticed Rosie leave the house with a small package, and head towards the city.

'Wait here,' Collins muttered, 'might need your help.'

Johnson sat back down on the bench to smoke his cigarette and watched out of the corner of his eye.

Collins decided he should look as if he was running for the tram that was approaching. He set off at a run and conveniently appeared distracted by looking at his watch when he bumped into Rosie and unbalanced her. He grabbed her arm before she fell and proceeded to apologise profusely for his carelessness, was she hurt? could he get anyone for her? He bent to pick up the parcel he had knocked from her hands and hid his smile, it was addressed to Miss Phryne. He reached behind and gave the thumbs up to Johnson who trotted over.

'Collins, need a hand?' he inquired, nonchalantly.

'Just thought you'd like to join me and Miss Sanderson in a trip to the station, Constable,' Hugh passed him a set of car keys. 'Just round the corner.'

'What on earth do you mean?' Rosie stuttered, 'the station?'

'Miss Sanderson, I'm Senior Constable Collins and this is Constable Johnson, City South police, we'd like you to come in for a little chat.'

'I most certainly will not!' she snapped and glared at them.

'Oh, well, in that case,' Hugh reached in his pockets for his handcuffs, hoping she would come quietly, as the saying went, 'Miss Rose Sanderson, I am arresting you on suspicion of sending malicious mail to The Honourable Mrs Robinson.'

'And why would I send anything, malicious or otherwise, to that bit...'

'Madam, please,' Hugh was surprised she would use 'language' in the street, 'now, do I need these?' he held the cuffs up.

'How dare you!'

Click! the handcuffs closed over her wrists and she was led, in full view of all the neighbours, to the car, where she was settled in the back seat and driven to City South Station, with Hugh cradling the parcel on his lap, even as he noticed it was starting to leak, what appeared to be, blood.

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'Come,' Jack looked up as Collins and Johnson, with, a protesting, Rosie Sanderson between them, entered.

'Inspector, I think Miss Sanderson has something to say,' Hugh put the box on the desk and 'encouraged' Rosie to sit down.

'Collins, what happened?' Jack looked from the box to his officer.

'I bumped into Miss Sanderson outside her house, sir,' he told him, 'she dropped this and, given the problems Mrs Robinson has been having lately, I asked her to accompany myself and Constable Johnson here to have a little chat. She refused so I arrested her on a charge of sending malicious mail, sir.'

Jack looked from one to the other, Rosie's mutinous expression and Hugh's impassive one at complete odds to the situation. He delicately pulled at the string holding the paper round the box and lifted the lid.

'Oh my god! Rosie!' he gasped and put the lid back quickly. 'What on earth possessed you?'

Rosie couldn't give an answer, so she stayed silent.

'Nothing to say?' he raised his eyebrows, 'no excuse, no whining? Not like you, Rosie.'

Rosie glared at him.

'Do we have an empty cell, Johnson?' Jack sounded tired, disappointed.

'Sir,' Johnson nodded.

'Take her down, please, usual rules,' by which he meant take her scarf, belt, if she was wearing one, stockings and her handbag. He wouldn't put it past her to try and hang herself, not that she would have been the first, which is why he always took such precautions with his female 'guests'.

He reached for the phone and dialled the number of the Women's Hospital.

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Mac stood in his office an hour later to discuss how they could deal with this. He still maintained he didn't want it to go to court unless he could be sure she would not end up in prison. He needed some way to get her into some secure accommodation, somewhere she would be safe and cared for.

'She' sick, Mac,' he sighed, offering her a whisky. 'Prison won't do her any good, and when she gets out she'll have even more reason to come after us.'

'Quite,' Mac nodded yes to the whisky, 'I have found someone who could give testament to this, but he'll have to see her, speak to her, if she'll speak to him.'

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'Well, Inspector,' Mr Shakeshaft sat down opposite Jack in his office, 'she refused to speak to me as well. I can put a statement together that she is in a fugue, totally unaware of what she has done. She could, of course, have brought this on herself, taken herself out of this world, the speed at which she stopped responding suggests this. Or she could just have decided she will not help herself. I'm thinking no to court, but yes to a speedy move to a place of safety where she can be properly assessed and treated. Does she have any family?'

'Her sister, in Sydney,' Jack wondered if he should enlighten the man on the rest of the sorry story and decided, on balance, it would be better he knew. 'I was married to her, once upon a time, we divorced a few years ago, I re married and have a daughter. Rosie and I never had children and we believed it was me, but it would seem not, my wife, Phryne caught very quickly. Rosie's father is George Sanderson, the...'

'...yes, I remember the case, sad and fundamentally stupid, disgraceful behaviour for someone so high up in the force.' he sighed, 'well, I'll leave the decision up to you, Inspector.'

'I'll contact you later, I shall have to ring her sister, she is, I suppose, next of kin, a couple of hours should do it.'

'I look forward to hearing from you.' Shakeshaft stood up and the two men shook hands.

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Jack wasn't looking forward to the conversation he would have to have with Rosie's sister. Apart from getting her to agree Rosie should go to a psychiatric hospital there was the issue of paying for the stay and the treatment. He would suggest selling the Sanderson home, putting the money in trust for her and using it to pay the bills.

He was right to worry. It was a long and tortuous, almost one sided conversation. He told her what had happened over the past few months and what had happened that day. He was sorry it had come to this, but he was not prepared to put his family through anymore harassment. Her sister sighed and apologised, saying Rosie had always tended towards the dramatic, and when she had gone to stay with them after their father's arrest she had wailed and bemoaned her lot. She had blamed Phryne for a lot of her ills but had been told to shut up and that it wasn't the Honourable Lady's fault, but their father's and Sydney's. She agreed to sell the house and would write to him to give him permission to oversee the sale and the safe incarceration of her, clearly mad, sister.

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'I always thought she was less vague than Rosie intimated,' he told Phryne over a whisky that night, 'so I'm hoping that her letter backs up her agreement this afternoon.'

'Well, I, for one, am rather glad she will be looked after,' Phryne cuddled against him, 'it's sad she is ill, I never wished her any harm.'

'You didn't harm her, darling,' he kissed the top of her head, 'her father did that, when he introduced her to Fletcher. She'll get the help she needs now.'

'What was my 'gift', this time, Jack?'

'Do you really want to know?' he wrinkled his nose in distaste.

'Well, after a putrefying bird, threats to the health of me and Polly, then dog mess...'

'It was the freshly severed head of a cat.'

She took a large swallow of her whisky and poured another, rather glad that Polly slept through the night, now.

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I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter written, I found it difficult to move the story on.


	23. Chapter 23

With Rosie safely placed, and a letter from her sister agreeing to the sale of the house and furnishings in the hands of a solicitor, life moved on in the Fisher-Robinson household. Polly continued to thrive, and, once she no longer needed her mother for sustenance, Phryne resumed her position, turning up at crime scenes before or after Jack and solving her own cases as they turned up.

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They sat over their evening whisky, discussing the outcome of the latest case - a murder where the body had been stowed in the antiquities storage section of the university, inside a sarcophagus...

It had brought back horrible memories for Phryne and she had found it a difficult case to deal with objectively. Jack wasn't surprised when she started to have broken sleep and he would find her side of the bed cold. He would find her by the side of Polly's cot in the nursery, sometimes asleep in the nursing chair. She admitted, after a little gentle prodding by her concerned husband, that the dream had returned; the one that she had had in London; but this time it was Polly who was at risk. He tried to get her to leave the case to him and Collins but she was sure that only seeing it through would banish the dream. So, each night he held her a little tighter, made love to her gently, but thoroughly, and each day, made sure she was fully involved in the solving of the case. Ultimately it turned out that the victim, a Professor of Egyptology, had wanted to set up a specialised exhibition but the University was not open to the idea of their artefacts being taken from the buildings. The person most against it was newly come to Melbourne, from, so he said, a two year long excavation in the Valley of the Kings. He had been storing valuable treasures in a canopic jar he had emptied in the hope of being able to sell them. The professor had come across these things when he knocked over the jar while cataloguing the collection. Inevitably things had turned ugly when he confronted the archaeologist, calling him a grave robber and a philistine, and, when he stormed off to inform the police he had been felled by a blow from a ceremonial staff. His remains would have remained undiscovered for aeons, Phryne had observed, if they hadn't had an infestation of rats, that seemed fascinated by the sarcophagus.

"Really, darling," she ran her finger down her beloved's cheek, "greed is such a deadly sin."

He turned his head just enough to take her finger between his teeth and nip it, then kiss it. Thinking they should call it a day and head upstairs she smiled and stood up, holding out her hand for him.

"Are you tired?" he asked, looking up at her from his seat.

"Not especially," she smiled her sultry smile, "are you?"

"I don't think I'm quite ready for sleep, but ..." he stood up and patted her behind, "I'm sure we can come up with something to keep us occupied."

"I expect so," her voice even lower and sexier and her eyes fixed on the tenting of his trousers.

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Phryne headed into the bathroom to wash and change. She opened the cabinet and took down the little box she kept in there, turning it around in her fingers she thought, then decided, on balance, now was not the time to try for a sibling for Polly. She had got her figure back, and, given the speed at which she had caught the first time ... best not, not just yet. Jack said it was up to her, he was happy if they stopped with Polly but she still thought two was better than one, company, little adventures ... short as Janey's life had been, it was full of fun and laughter, things that only children can experience together ... she wanted that for her daughter.

"I was beginning to think you had climbed out of the window and gone off dancing," he opened his arms for her.

"Just preparing myself for you, my lover," she moved into the circle of his love, "we don't want any surprises, just yet, do we?"

He kissed the top of her head and smiled. How many couples were as frank with one another, about planning their families? Probably none, judging by the number of large families in the less well off areas of the city they came across in the performance of their duties. The more affluent and educated seemed to be able to keep the numbers of their progeny down, for the most part, but he didn't want to know how.

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She was sitting up in the bed, reading, when he came through from performing his own ablutions. Who would ever have thought the Honourable Phryne Fisher would ever be so beautifully ... 'ordinary' wasn't really the word he was looking for but he wasn't thinking out loud and he knew what he meant.

She put the book down and patted the empty side of the bed. He sauntered round and slipped under the covers, lying on his side and pulling his wife to him.

"Hello, Jack," she breathed, "fancy seeing you here."

"Oh, be quiet, Miss Fisher," he touched her lips with his and silenced her, the only way he could. They made love almost reverently, taking their time to touch and kiss, remove the little clothing they wore; they'd tried not bothering with nightwear but ...

"Where's the fun in that, Jack," she had sighed, though the actual act had been as wonderful as ever, the undressing of each other was a pleasure neither was prepared to give up, unless they were in a hurry.

He traced his fingers down her body, between her breasts, taking each one in turn with his mouth and smiling as she groaned with pleasurable anticipation. Her use of body lotions and creams for her skin had prevented the marks Mac had warned her about, from her pregnancy, and, to him, she was as perfect as the first time he had taken her. Though the bruise was no longer there for him to 'kiss better'. He dipped his tongue into her belly button and she gasped as the sensation hit her entrance. His fingers moved down through her curls and over her folds, if he didn't take her very, very soon, it would all be over - for both of them - before it had started.

"Yes," she sighed, "oh Jack," as he lifted himself over her and entered her slowly, agonisingly slowly, and moved in her. Her fingers dug into his sides and she bucked under him, the rhythm increasing until he took them both over the edge into the abyss of release. She held him there for as long as she could, and he had to admit he wasn't going anywhere soon, then gasped and relaxed, allowing him to roll off her and pull her so her head rested on his chest and their limbs were tangled in the afterglow. He drew little circles on the top of her arm and smiled as she hummed in appreciation.

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Polly had, fortunately, taken after her mother when it came to waking in the morning. She was, for a small child, a late riser, quite often still slumbering when her father looked in on her before he went down to breakfast. Phryne would wake while he was in the bathroom and most mornings he got away before she had time to entice him back to bed, as she had in the early days. She had confessed, quite recently, to enjoying the routine of family life, the stolen kisses, making love when Polly was asleep or out with Dot and little Reggie, or, if Jack was at the station, locking his office door and straddling him in his chair; though, admittedly this had happened only two or three times when he had been working a case that meant he wasn't home at, what she referred to as, 'a civilised hour', or indeed, at all. It wasn't the most comfortable of places, just sex, but what was a girl to do?

Phryne had time to run a bath for her and her daughter, find an outfit for the day and the same for Polly before going into the nursery to collect her. They would bathe together, Polly babbling away and splashing, pulling at her mother's cheeks and giggling when Phryne poked her tongue out at her.

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"Anything in the papers?" she asked as they entered the dining room, putting Polly down to wobble to her father.

"Nothing interesting," he reached down and pulled the child onto his knee, "petty theft and a brawl in Richmond, all dealt with. I should be home for dinner, maybe even earlier, unless anything crops up."

"Perhaps in time to take madam there for an early evening walk," she plated up some eggs for Polly and cut a slice of toast into fingers for her.

"It's looking like a lovely day, how about a picnic on the foreshore, instead of dinner at home?"

"You do know she'll roll her food in the sand, don't you?" she laughed thinking on the last time they had done that, before Polly had found her feet.

"Doesn't seem to have done her any harm," he shrugged handing his daughter a spoon and placing the newspaper across his torso, to keep the egg off his suit.

Polly loved being allowed to eat her breakfast on her father's knee, instead of in the highchair, in fact she was getting quite difficult about it, and only Mr Butler could get her into it. Phryne couldn't work out how he did it, he didn't appear to bribe her, just picked her up and plonked her straight in it and fastened the harness before she realised what was happening.

They heard Dot let herself in, with Reggie, and Phryne poured her a cup of tea ready.

"Good morning, Miss," she smiled, "Inspector."

"Morning Dot, Reggie," Phryne grinned, "any post."

Dot waved the bundle of letters she had taken off the postman, and sat down. It had become routine, in the morning - she would arrive with Reggie, take the post off the postman and sit down for a cuppa before the Inspector went to the station and the day would properly start. She sorted the letters with Reggie on her knee chewing on a piece of toast Phryne had given him.

"Right," Jack kissed his daughter and slid her down off his knee, "I better head out to the station," he stood up and checked for egg deposits on his clothes, finding none he went round the table to kiss his wife goodbye and ruffled Reggie's as yet sparse, waves.

"Have a good day, don't forget to call if you need me," she smiled and adjusted his tie.

"Oh, you'll probably hear of anything before I do, Miss Fisher," he laughed and left them, pausing in the hall to collect his coat and hat.

"There's one from your mother, Miss," Dot passed her the envelope.

"Oh, I hope father's not up to his old tricks," she slid the letter opener in and sliced open the paper. Taking a few moments to read a smile formed at the corner of her mouth, "well," she hummed, "who'd have thought it?"

"Thought what, Miss?" Dot put Reggie on the floor where he could join his partner in crime and turned to her mistress.

"Andrew Walsingham," she smiled. Dot looked confused.

"You remember, I told you about him, the one who had designs on me when I was in London," she waved the letter.

"Oh, yes, he grabbed you after the theatre," Dot laughed, "what about him?"

"Apparently he's become a father," she read on, "a month ago, a boy, a good sturdy little lad, according to mother." She considered the information, "must take after the mother, my mother thought I'd be interested to know, look ..." she passed a newspaper cutting.

"He looks completely surprised," Dot peered at the poorly taken photograph of a society christening.

"Probably wonders how it happened," Phryne shrugged her shoulders and read on, "seems father's done something silly again, she's hidden his passport."

"What this time?"

"She doesn't say," she inhaled and put the letter down, in the reply pile.

Picking up the next one she turned it over to see who had sent it. Jacob ... her old friend from childhood, the first boy to kiss her. She smiled, it had been a while since he had written, they weren't what you could call close friends but they had bonded in the woods outside school over two sheepdog puppies. A fleeting thought that Polly may want a puppy crossed her mind but she dismissed it almost as quickly.

"Dear Phryne,

I hope you're well and enjoying motherhood. I read somewhere that you solve mysteries, and I have one for you. Last week one of our workers disappeared. She helped my wife out in the house, so much to do with the children and everything, so we employed a young lass to help out. Anyway, she was late getting into the kitchen last Tuesday and when Cassie went to find her, her bed hadn't been slept in, all her things are still there.

I'm not sure what to do, the local force are not interested, reckon she did a runner with a boy I don't believe it, Phryne, why would she leave her clothes if she was off with a sweetheart.

I don't know if you would be willing to look into it, or could suggest something we could do, I'm getting increasingly worried about her ... I've asked her parents but they don't know anything and were a little cagey.

I don't suppose you could you contact me to let me know.

Sincerely

Jacob."

She pursed her lips and stared into the distance. He was somewhere near Jamieson out in the wilds he had once told her. Driving would take a good part of the day.

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"... and you have no idea where she's gone or why?" she leant on the arm of the chair as she listened to Jacob, still with a Somerset burr to his voice, say they had tried all they could think of, from a close search of the farm buildings to spreading out over the sheep grazing land, which was vast.

"None," he admitted, "there have been no strangers around, all the farm workers are still here."

She thought; the last time she'd headed way out of Melbourne for a case she was pregnant with Polly, now, if she were to go, she would have to take her daughter with her, she couldn't expect Mr Butler to look after her, and Dot, could she accompany her? That would mean Reggie as well. Perhaps she should go alone, ask Dot to have Polly and take the red raggers with her, instead. She wondered how Jack would feel about that.

Before Polly, before London, she would have headed out without even considering the Inspector's feelings, but now she had to consider not only him but Polly too.

"Jacob," she sighed, "I will have to make arrangements before I can come over to you, there's my daughter to organise."

"Oh Phryne," he gasped, "I don't expect you to drop everything and come over, but we have plenty of space, you could bring her with you."

Phryne considered the offer, a missing maid wasn't a dangerous case, or it shouldn't be, and being with other children, other than Reggie, would be good for her.

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"Jack," she breezed into the station and into his office, deciding this was a face to face conversation not one to be had over the phone.

"Miss Fisher," he grinned, "what brings you here?" He noticed she was alone so this was a serious conversation - what was she up to now?

"I have a potential case I would like your advice on," she perched on the corner of his desk, a sure sign she had already made her mind up.

"My advice, Miss Fisher," he leant back in his chair, "now, when do you ever need my advice?"

"Alright," she laughed, "I had a letter from Jacob this morning."

"Jacob?"

"A very old friend, didn't I tell you about the first boy I kissed?" she asked innocently.

"Go on."

"About the kiss?"

"The case ... Phryne, stop being obtuse," he raised his eyebrows.

"Missing girl, all her things left in her room, no strangers about, middle of nowhere, round about Jamieson." She was a succinct as possible, "he's asked me to go over and help find her."

"Jamieson is a long way, sweetheart," he leant forward, "what about Polly?"

"He has children, says I can take her and Dot and Reggie," she slipped off the desk and onto his knee, "she'd be quite safe."

"You want to go, don't you?" His arms wrapped around her, "I take it the local force, such as it is out there, have been no help."

"I would like to go, it would be good for Polly and Reggie, to meet other children, and, yes, they are not really interested." She watched for a reaction, "I'll take Cec and Bert, they can drive ..." Although Jamieson was way out of his jurisdiction she would actually like him to go with her, to meet Jacob, and she hated sleeping alone.

"Well, you'd better go then, hadn't you," there was a twinkle in his eye, "perhaps I can join you, if nothing comes up here."

"Many hands, Jack ..." she smiled her acceptance.

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Phryne had never had to include a child's needs in her packing before, so, after Dot had agreed to go with her she enlisted her help.

"One outfit a day for her, Miss," Dot suggested, "even though she can be ..."

"...messy?" Phryne raised her eyebrows, "I suppose so. Nappies are going to take the bulk of her suitcase, aren't they?" She wrinkled her nose at the thought of having to transport them home, used. Dot noticed and gave a wry smile.

"I expect that, if there are children there, there will be the facilities for me to keep up with the laundry, there will be Reggie's as well," she folded Polly's little nightdress and placed it in the case. "That should do it for her, four sets, should be plenty, that's all I've done for Reggie."

"Dot," Phryne sighed, adding the last of her things to her own case, "what would I do without you?"

Dot didn't answer but privately thought there wouldn't be much left in the nursery if Miss was left to her own devices.

"Oh, will the Inspector be joining us?" She had a sudden thought.

"I've put some things in for him, in my case," she smiled, remembering how they had packed for their flight in England.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxDriving with the two children was going to be challenging. Now Polly was mobile and curious Phryne and Jack had looked into the idea of a special seat for her in the car, and found one that hooked over the back of the main seat. Dot and Hugh had purchased one for Reggie, too and the two children would sit side by side in the back of the Hispano regularly, Phryne even kept her speed down! This took up space and two adults and two children would no longer fit on the back seat of the taxi.

They had just finished working out how to travel, with Phryne taking the Hispano, after all, and Polly, and Dot travelling in the taxi with Reggie, when Mr Butler came out of the house waving and calling for Miss Fisher.

"Sorry, Miss, the Inspector's on the phone," he apologised, "he says he must speak to you before you leave."

"Cutting it fine," she huffed, "would you mind ..." she waved at the car where her daughter sat impatiently waiting for mama to start driving.

"Of course," he gave a little bow.

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"Jack," she gasped, "you nearly missed me."

"Had a call, from Jamieson station," he hurriedly informed her, "wait for me, I'm coming with you."

"Right, well ... good job I packed a clean shirt for you," she grinned, rather pleased he would be by her side.

The line went dead as, in his office Jack was smirking at the nerve of the woman and he had to get a move on, or she would leave without him!

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Phryne was sitting with her very impatient daughter, in the Hispano, when Jack drew up.

"Dada!" Polly held her arms for a hug, which was not forthcoming, though he did kiss the top of her almost black curls as he passed his car keys to Mr Butler then climbed into the passenger seat beside his wife.

"At least someone's glad to see me," he grinned.

She looked at him over the rim of her sunglasses then turned her attention to driving, for which he was grateful.

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Once out of the city and on a more open road Phryne increased her speed just enough for her satisfaction and her daughter's safety. There was very little between Melbourne and Jamieson so a stop for lunch was going be a picnic that the ever thoughtful Mr Butler had prepared.

"So, Jack," she called over the noise of the engine, "why the sudden urge to join us?"

"Call from Jamieson," he gave up trying to keep his hat on and tossed it into the back seat, "apparently your friend has been creating a stir, told the station that he had called in private help as they didn't seem to care about the safety of a young girl. They contacted the deputy commissioner, who rightly surmised you were the 'private help' and he rang me. Told me to clear it up as quickly as possible as it reflects badly on the force as a whole, if small stations ignore pleas for help and citizens have to call in private detectives."

"Good job Sanderson isn't in the post anymore, then, isn't it?" she commented, ruefully, "he'd have probably hauled me in, in chains, and told you to control your wife."

"Mmm..." he agreed. "Tell me about him, your friend, I mean."

"Well, it was a long time ago," she smiled at the memory, "when I was at school in England ..."

She proceeded to tell him about hiding in a tree in the woods, watching Jacob and his friends build a kennel for an unwanted dog, then how she had adopted the second dog that wasn't wanted because he had a crooked leg and called him Bodgy ...

"Bodgy lived until he was fifteen, even father came to love him."

"I never saw you as a dog person, Phryne," he mused, "in fact I never saw you as a pet person, at all."

"It was a spur of the moment decision," she admitted, "but it didn't seem fair to me, just because he had a crook leg, to drown him. I don't think I'd keep one now, we live in the city and the garden isn't really big enough for a dog."

"Well," he grinned, "let's hope Polly doesn't have the same spur of the moment idea."

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They made the outskirts of Jamieson and Jacob's sheep ranch just in time for dinner. Phryne pulled up near the front of a large, sprawling house, all on one level with three steps up to a veranda and the front door, pleasingly painted in pale blue. The overhanging roof provided shade from the sun, and presumably, shelter from rain. As Cec and Bert's taxi drew up behind her three dogs came barking up to them and put their front paws on the edge of the doors.

"Down!" a man's voice rose over the noise, "come away!"

The dogs dropped their paws down and trotted over to a tall, broad shouldered man, with sun-streaked, ginger hair, left long over his collar. He sported a slightly bushy beard and moustache and his brown eyes danced at the sight of his friend from the 'posh school'.

"Phryne Fisher!" he opened his arms as she alighted from the car and accepted his hug.

"Hello, Jacob," she smiled and pulled back, "you've filled out a bit."

"And you ... well ... your husband is a very lucky man," he grinned.

Jack watched them greet each and decided he and Polly ought to be included in the greeting. Phryne turned and stepped free of Jacob as she heard Polly squeak being lifted out of the seat.

"Jacob, let me introduce you to Inspector Jack Robinson, my husband, and the wriggling bundle he is trying to control is our daughter, Polly." She slipped her arm through the gap between him and Polly.

"Good to meet you, Inspector. Word got through, I take it?" he held out his hand and Jack shook it, nodding in agreement.

The door to the house opened and a figure appeared. Small, dark, a little plump, Jacob's wife waved and called, "don't keep them on the doorstep, Jake, they must be ready for a cuppa after that long drive."

"My wife, Cassie," he grinned and turned to lead the way in to the cool of the house.

Inside the house further introductions were made and the visitors were ushered into the front parlour, a large bright room, pleasingly decorated in pale lemons and greens, with a comfortable looking couch and two armchairs around the fire, a large round pouffe nestled in a corner and Jacob brought in more chairs to seat everybody.

"First we'll get you settled, introduce you to the children who are around somewhere," Jacob laughed, "then I'll show you Ada's room."

"First, Jacob Robertson," Cassie came through the door bearing a tray of tea, "we will have a cuppa, then you can sort that out."

Jacob roared with laughter and agreed. Phryne and Jack both watched the couple, obviously still in love and with such an easy relationship.

They were chatting about how their lives had changed over the years when the door opened again and a boy, about ten years old, entered, carrying a baby.

"Sorry, mum," he hefted the child onto his hip, "she was trying to get out of the playpen, again."

"Dan, these people have come to try and help us find Ada," Cassie took the little girl from him, "Inspector and Mrs Robinson, Mrs Collins, Mr Yates and Mr Johnson. Polly is Mrs Robinson's baby and Reggie is Mrs Collins'." It was quite an introduction and Dan nodded. "Dan is our eldest and this, the latest addition is Phryne, our only girl. Jacob insisted she be named after you Mrs Robinson ..."

"After all, Phryne, if you hadn't told me about this country I would still be tending sheep on dad's farm and I would never have met Cassie," he smiled, "I am very grateful to you."

Phryne had the good grace to blush a little and smiled.

"I hope Australia is ready for two Phrynes" Jack grinned, "I thought one was more than enough."

She dug him in the ribs with her elbow.

"Do you have any contact with your family in England, Jacob?" He had never said anything in his letters, which, in the early days, had been brief.

"I wrote just before I boarded the ship to sail," he leant forward with his elbows on his knees, "then again when I found somewhere to live and work, so they could write back."

She tipped her head, waiting ...

"He eventually relented, or mother did," he sighed, "I know it wasn't the best thing to do, and she told me so, how worried she was. I tried to get them to come over, offered to pay their passage, but they never have done. Dad passed away last year, I'm working on mother ..."

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Over a tasty home cooked dinner of roast lamb, roast potatoes and various vegetables, they discussed the possible reasons for Ada to have gone missing.

"She has never given us any reason to think she would wander off, settled in well and is a good worker," Cassie noted, "but it's the fact that her things are still in her room, as if she just vanished in a puff of smoke."

"We've scoured our land," Jacob continued, "wondering if she went out for a walk and fell somewhere, but we haven't found any sign of her. It's a long walk into town, and we have asked there, but no one has seen hide nor hair of her."

"And there have been no strangers, visitors or itinerants about?" Phryne wiped Polly's sticky fingers before she used her mother's blouse as a flannel.

"Not that we know of, none of the workers have said anything," Cassie stood up to clear the dishes, smiling at Dot as she too stood, passing Reggie to Cec.

"I should like to interview them all, tomorrow," Jack pushed his plate out of the way and rested his elbows on the table, "if that's convenient."

"Whatever you need to do, Inspector," Jacob agreed, "I just want to find her and know she's safe. If she doesn't want to stay with us, that's fine, though we will miss her."

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Polly was settled in a bed in the baby's room, with Reggie and little Phryne who shared the cot. At some point in his son's lives Jacob had attached wooden sides to a single bed to stop a child rolling out of bed and it was that that Polly slept in.

"She'll be fine," Cassie muttered as Phryne tucked her daughter in securely, "all my boys managed to stay in it, and I'm sure Polly will too."

"It's funny," Phryne turned to her, "before I had Polly I had no idea how to look after a baby, Jack always referred to it as another adventure, and so it is. When we, Dot and I, went shopping for baby things I barely knew the difference between a bassinet and a cot, and now I have to think of the time she is out of the cot and into a bed."

"Well, having watched you, she is one lucky little girl," Cassie touched her arm, "and, if you don't mind me saying so, you are doing just great."

"Thank you, it's nice to have an independent view," she smiled, "especially from one who knows."

"Oh, don't kid yourself," Cassie laughed, "I'm an only child, of only children, I was lucky to have a wonderful nurse when Dan was born, after that, we just muddled through, Jacob and I, but then, he's very much one who rises to the challenge."

"Well, anyone who, at the age of sixteen, can make his way to the other side of the world, with his dog, is always going to rise to the challenge," Phryne agreed.

"Indeed," Cassie nodded, then bade her goodnight and left her to see to Polly.

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"I'm glad Jacob kicked up a stink," Phryne sighed as she curled against Jack's side, "what do you think?"

"Mmm ..." he mused, absent-mindedly drawing little circles on her shoulder with his finger, "there's a lot of land to go over, and, old mine shafts, too. I'd like to speak to her parents too."

"Jacob said they were cagey, when he spoke to them," she wriggled against him.

"How did she come to work here?" he tried to keep his mind on the problem of the missing girl and off what his wife was doing to him.

"They advertised in the local paper," she smiled to herself, knowing precisely what she was doing, "they liked her instantly and, apparently, her apple pie, that she used as proof she could cook, rivalled Cassie's."

"After that meal it must have been good," his voice rose as her hand went a-wandering under his pyjama bottoms and all thoughts of apple pies and missing maids were put to one side ...

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Dot woke to the sound of cot sides rattling and babies calling. Her room was opposite theirs and, knowing they were safe for a moment she stretched and smiled. Cassie had welcomed her help in the kitchen the previous evening and showed her where she could launder Polly and Reggie's nappies, prepare early morning tea ...

"Help yourself, Dot," she smiled.

So Dot thought for a few minutes then decided the babies were going to wake the household, and, if she could bath Reggie and Polly together, surely adding little Phryne into the mix couldn't be too hard. She slipped on her robe and went to see how long she could reasonably leave them, perhaps just take them out of their beds and leave them to play while she made the tray for Miss and the Inspector.

The bedroom was set so that no harm could come to small children, with soft toys and a guard round the fireplace that was anchored to the wall. She spoke quietly to the babies and told them she was just going to make tea then it was bath time. She took each one in turn out of their beds, kissed them and put them on the floor, deciding that they would be perfectly safe, even given Miss Polly's need to climb.

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Cassie was in the kitchen already, sipping her first cup of tea, her one luxury in her busy life.

"Good morning, Cassie," Dot smiled, "do you mind if I make a tray of tea for Mr and Mrs Robinson? Then I'll bath the babies."

"Go ahead, I wasn't sure whether I should wake them yet," she smiled, "Phryne is usually happy to play in her cot until I go to her."

"I'm afraid Reggie has encouraged her to make some noise, they're playing on the floor at the moment." Dot laughed.

Cassie pushed her chair back ...

"They'll be fine," she continued, "I'll bath them."

"Oh Dot, that is so kind of you, Ada and I usually shared the morning chores and I have got rather used to the help."

"We'll find her," Dot rubbed her shoulder, "I'm sure there's a simple explanation."

"I do hope so."

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Phryne grunted and shifted in her sleep when Dot knocked on the door. Jack grinned, she wasn't a morning person, still. He pulled the sheet over her nakedness and called Dot in.

"Good morning, Inspector," she was used to this now, even though it was rare for her to be at Wardlow before they got up, "tea. I'm going to bath the babies, Cassie said she and Ada used to share the morning chores and I think she's missing her more than she'll admit."

"Best find her and bring her back," he sat up and smiled, "if she wants to come back, that is."

"I can't see why not," Dot stood with her hands behind her back, "this is a lovely household, the children are well mannered and helpful, despite their ages, their parents are kind and gentle with them, and it's no act."

Dot had obviously looked closely at the household dynamics and he was grateful for her insight.

"Jacob is very gentle," Phryne mumbled from somewhere under the covers, "if you had seen him with the puppies all those years ago ... he wouldn't hurt a fly." She rolled over and pushed herself up, wrapping the sheet round her breasts.

She shook her head so her hair fell away from her eyes and smiled at Dot, while taking the cup of tea offered by her husband.

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So, what will the day offer? Where is Ada?


	24. Chapter 24

The table cleared of breakfast things, they pulled the maps out and Jacob drew a line where his land ended. It was a sizeable area and he admitted it had taken some time to search.

"Have you looked into the old mine workings?" Phryne asked, thinking of a previous holiday nearby in the Alps.

"Some of them are unstable," he drew a ring around the nearest, "but this one is ok. Do you think she could be hiding in there?"

"Hiding, or hidden," Phryne pulled the map closer, "until we find her we won't know."

"Right," Jack stood up, "I need to speak to your men, Jacob, is it possible."

"Altogether or separately?"

"Groups, I think, at first," he stared into the distance, "perhaps I can get a feel for anyone covering for one of the others."

"I think I'll have another look in her room, if that's alright with you, Jacob," Phryne folded the map, "it may give us a lead on any secrets."

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Jacob took Jack to the bunkhouse. Half of the men were out riding, seeing to the flock, the other half would go out later. Jack sat and talked with them, what did they know of Ada, what did they think of her?

"Good kid," was the main observation, "do anything for any of us, mending, darning. Found time to listen, you know, if we were having troubles ..."

"Family troubles?" Jack looked round.

"Yeah, sometimes, if one of us heard that illness had struck, she'd have a bit of advice we could send on ..."

"... or when one of the younger ones had sheila bother," another laughed, "remember when young Fred was pining over that lass in town."

"She said he was trying too hard," someone else nodded.

"... and she was right, she's come round to him. Not that you could call it steady, with him out here and her ... still, he's happier."

Jack came away feeling that Ada was well liked, little nuggets of information had come out, nobody put anybody down. This had to have an outside influence, surely.

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In the bedroom Phryne had looked through the wardrobe and found a few simple cotton dresses and a coat. They weren't particularly stylish, but smart and well kept. Her coat had been brushed clean of any dust she would have picked up in town or when out for a walk. Her underwear and nightwear was practical, cotton, with the odd darn and repair. On the bedside cabinet she found the usual, a book: a copy of 'Oliver Twist', an alarm clock, a water glass and a handkerchief. She opened the book and smiled to see it was the one she had sent Jacob, one Christmas - 'To Jacob, from another trying to find her place in the world, Phryne.' She had been travelling, 'wandering', after she had left Rene and Paris, feeling just a little bit lost at the time. She shook herself out of her reverie and turned her attention back to trying to find out more about Ada. There was a bank book in the drawer, she was obviously saving her wages, putting £1 15s in the bank each week, sometimes a little less. Saving herself five bob, Phryne noted, probably for treats, which would treat her well, or ... did she give it to her parents. She was only sixteen, after all, they would expect her to send money home. She wanted to speak to Mr and Mrs Childs, surely they would have set the account up for her ... or did Jacob?

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"Cassie," Phryne breezed into the kitchen, where Cassie and Dot were baking and small children were pottering around and under the table, including Polly.

"Mama!" she crawled under a chair and held up her arms to be lifted.

Phryne automatically lifted her daughter onto her hip and kissed her forehead, leaving a lipstick imprint there, "Cassie, Ada's bank book," she waved it in the air, "she was saving all but five bob ..."

"Yes, Jacob set the account up for her, she didn't want her father to know how much she was getting paid." Cassie smiled and wiped her hands on her apron. "He's a bit controlling, quite happy for Ada to work but expects her to give him most of her pay. He came up and told us we were getting her cheap, if half her wages were five shillings. I didn't say anything, that we actually paid her two pounds a week, just reminded him she gets free board and lodging."

Phryne sat down and waited for more information.

Cassie sighed, "he's a lazy beggar, doesn't lift a finger. Ada says he hasn't worked for months after being laid off from the brewery, apparently found drunk in the cellar, where the beer is barrelled. I told Jacob I was sure he had something to do with her disappearance so he went to speak to him."

"He said they were cagey when he did," Phryne recalled the conversation she had with him over the phone.

"Not surprised ... oh, Phryne," she bit her lip, "you don't suppose ..."

"He wants her money, he's unlikely to do away with her," Phryne mused, "my guess is she's hiding from him because he's threatened her."

"She could have come to us, we would support her," Cassie sat down, "I do hope we can find her, before she does something silly."

Phryne flicked the pages of the bank book and a small slip of paper fell out. She smoothed out the creases and read the uneducated hand:

"Come to the sheep pen, or I come to you. Pa."

"Where's Jack?" she stood up and put Polly down, "go play, darling," she murmured.

"Mama?"

Phryne crouched down and rested her hand on her daughter's cheek, "mama and dada have to do something, stay with Dot and Reggie. We'll be back soon, promise."

Polly flung her arms round her mother's neck and bestowed a sloppy kiss on her cheek, she seemed to know her mother had something very important to do. "Bye bye, mama," she went back to playing with some baking tins under the table with Reggie and her new friend little Phryne.

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She found Jack, thinking on the veranda.

"Jack, we need to see Ada's parents, I'm sure they have something to do with this," she showed him the bank book and note.

"I was thinking the same thing myself, Miss Fisher," he hummed, "your car or the taxi?"

"Mine of course," she slipped the book into her pocket and retrieved her keys. "Come on, slow coach," she tripped down the steps and into the car. He shook his head and smiled, 'Phryne the freight train rolls again,' he thought.

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"I'm thinking," Phryne observed, slowing down to take a bend, "I'm thinking she's there, with her parents."

"How so?"

"Well, he told her to meet him by the sheep pens, so, if she didn't then he would have gone up to the farm house to find her - and he didn't."

"So, you're thinking he took her and is keeping her until she gives up the money?"

"From what Cassie says he tries to control Ada, and demands half her wages."

Jack reached into her coat pocket and retrieved the bank book, raising his eyebrows as he read the amount she had saved.

"She gives him ..."

"... five bob," she supplied, "bearing in mind she doesn't live at home I think it's more to help her mother than for him. Least I hope so."

"Maybe there are other children, perhaps it's to provide for them," he suggested, putting the book safely in the glove box.

"Hmm..."

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The Childs' house was a small cottage on the very edge of the town. Run down, with a broken front window, peeling paint and a broken rail on the porch - such as it was.

Jack gave a sharp rap on the door and stood back out of view, leaving his wife to start any conversation. A yelp and "get the bloody door, woman!" drunkenly split the air.

Inspector and Mrs Robinson looked at each other with raised eyebrows, and waited. The door was opened, just enough to reveal a harassed looking woman in her mid thirties, though she looked older.

"Mrs Childs?" Phryne asked, pleasantly, "Phryne Fisher, friend of the Roberton's." She offered her gloved hand.

"What of it?" Mrs Childs grunted.

"I just wondered if I could speak to Ada," she smiled, innocently, withdrawing her hand when she realised it wasn't going to be taken.

"Not here," was the sullen reply.

"Mrs Childs," Jack moved into view, "Inspector Robinson, Victoria State Police. Ada had disappeared from her place of work, as you know, we have been asked to look into the case. May we come in?" He was as pleasant as Phryne, not wishing to alert them that they had their suspicions as to their involvement in her disappearance.

"Local cop's been, we know nothing," she hissed, trying to close the door, but finding Jack's foot in the way, she glared at him and dared him to keep it there. He did.

"I'm sure, but there again ..."

"She went to work for them, up at the sheep station," she folded her arms but kept her weight on the door, "not seen her since, gives a couple of bob to her father, once a week ..."

"A couple of bob!" Phryne gasped, "I'm sure it's more like five."

"Bert says a couple, that's all she sends me, for the little 'uns," she frowned, and turned to look at her husband, slumped in an old armchair by the fire grate. She relaxed, taking her weight off the door and Jack pushed it open.

"So, Mr Childs," Jack stepped inside the front room and in two strides (it was that small) he was in front of the grubby personage studying his chipped and dirty fingernails, "where is Ada?"

He shrugged but wouldn't look up.

"What've y' done, y' bludger?" his wife snarled, "where's our Ada?" She took a step forward.

The door to the other room opened a crack and two pairs of wide eyes peered through. Phryne stepped quickly over to them and looked into the kitchen. It was untidy, Mr Butler and Dot would have a fit, dishes in the sink, a ragged piece of indeterminate meat sat on a chipped serving dish on the old table with a carving fork stabbed into it. She crouched down and addressed the two little boys, gently.

"Hello, my name's Phryne," she whispered, "what's yours?"

"Frank," the slightly larger of the two muttered, "n' he's Billy." He nodded to his brother.

"Don't suppose you know where Ada is, do you?"

They shook their heads, "no, missus, da says she ain't comin' back." Billy sniffed.

They were sadly undernourished, dirty and clothed in torn shirts and trousers that were too short for Frank and too long for Billy.

She suggested they stay out of the way, until she and the Inspector had found out what was going on. Voices were being raised in the other room, language that, although she knew it and could use in when necessary, she wouldn't use in front of a child, was being hurled at Mr Childs and still he wouldn't talk. Mrs Childs was not a big woman but she had a big voice and was demanding to know what he had done with their eldest.

Mr Childs refused to answer any of the questions put to him. Jack was on the point of dragging him up and taking him down to the station for more formal questioning when Mrs Childs leant forward and thumped him, hard, across the face. Jack couldn't be sure but she probably broke his nose. He must remember not to get between Phryne and Polly at any time.

"Bitch!" he yelled the first word he had uttered since they had arrived.

She grabbed him by the ears and pushed him hard against the back of the chair. Jack pulled her off him, "now, Mrs Childs, we'll take him to the station, have a word there."

"He's done something to her," she shrugged from his grasp, "the lazy, good for nothing dipstick!"

Jack dragged him up from the chair, he was solidly built but didn't resist.

"Miss Fisher," he called, "shall I meet you there?" It wasn't much of a walk, and Mr Childs would have some time to think, Jack hoped; that, and he didn't think they should soil the Hispano with his person. She waved from the kitchen and turned to the boys,

"I expect I shall see you again," she smiled.

As she turned to the other room Mrs Childs was just raising her hand, in which was held the iron: not an electric one like they had at home, but an old flat iron that one heated on the range.

"Jack!" she screamed, as the household implement flew through the air. He turned and ducked - the iron hit Mr Childs in the back of his head, felling him like a tree, almost pulling Jack down with him. Blood oozed through his dark, greasy hair and from his nose where he had hit the doorstep. Jack felt for a pulse and looked up at Phryne, shaking his head. He was gone, and they still had no idea where Ada was.

There was a haunting silence as the coroner's van took the body of Mr Childs away and the local Sergeant took Mrs Childs away to be charged with murder. The two little boys stood either side of Mrs Robinson watching their parents be forever removed from their lives.

Phryne sighed and looked down as Billy tentatively took her hand.

"Right," she shook her shoulders and sighed, "you two with me, the Inspector has to go to the station, we'll go up to the sheep station." With Mr Childs gone she had only one more idea as to where the missing girl was, and it was somewhere on Jacob's land - she can't have left it. So, what did her father do? "You can't stay here by yourselves."

Their eyes were like saucers when they saw the mode of transport they were to be carried to the station in, they had never seen anything so wonderful and stylish as this, much less been allowed to sit in one.

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Phryne took the boys round to the kitchen door where she hoped to find Cassie and Dot. They would know what to do with the boys, which she strongly imagined would be a good scrub in the bath for starters.

She told Cassie the story while Dot took the boys to the bathroom, as Phryne had rightly suspected it was first on her list. Cassie sent Dan to find a set of clothes for each of them, suggesting he look in Charlie or Eddie's, her six and eight year old's wardrobes, for something that would fit. Polly climbed up onto her mother's lap while they discussed what might happen to the boys and what Phryne thought was the best thing to do in the way of finding Ada.

"The boys can stay here," Cassie sipped her tea, "we've plenty of room, and they'll go to school."

"You'll have to talk to Welfare about it," Phryne warned, remembering Jane.

"Round here they barely bother," Cassie laughed, "now, what about Ada?"

"Can I have a horse and someone to ride with me, and a couple of torches? I want to go to the pen she was supposed to meet her father at and I'll take it from there."

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Young Fred was her escort, he was rather troubled that he hadn't been able to find Ada.

"She's nice," he sighed, "listens."

"We'll find her, Fred," Phryne had rubbed his shoulder kindly, "now," she looked over the land, and into the ground for foot prints, scuff marks or any kind of disturbance in the dirt, that didn't look like hoof prints, but might look like a lady's shoe. "Hello," she squatted down, "what's this?"

"It's a button," he said, joining her, "Ada had some like that on one of her dresses. I remember her having to sew it back on, when she was doing some mending for the rest of the men. She used to bring all the mending," he noticed her quizzical look, "and sit and talk or listen with us while she did it."

"Fred," she mused, " are there any mine shafts near here?"

"Er, yeah," he pointed to a slope in the landscape. "Over there, but it's not stable, nobody goes in it."

"A perfect place to hide ..." she didn't want to say 'body', not yet, though more and more it was what she expected. Ada had been missing for three days.

They remounted and trotted over. The wooden slats closing off the entrance had been damaged but had been put back ...

"...probably used a stone," Phryne lifted one from the ground that would make a good hammer, "to hit the nails back in."

Fred started to pull at the wood, now weakened and it didn't take much effort to removed them. Phryne stood back as he threw each plank behind him, not caring who was in the way. She wondered if he was sweet on Ada.

"Ada!" he shouted into the gloom, "Ada!"

"Wait, Fred," Phryne pulled him back and shone a torch into the tunnel, handing him one, "slowly, I don't want to have to carry you back."

Phryne wasn't keen on small spaces, after the times her father had locked her in a cupboard to 'break her spirit', as she had once told Jack, and she shivered as the walls seemed to lean over her.

"Ada!" Fred called, again, "it's Freddy, shout out girl!"

Phryne put her hand on his arm and her fingers to her lips, she had heard something, a groan, a moan, definitely a sound.

"This way," she waved her torch to the left, seeing another tunnel off the main one. Very slowly they crept through the tunnel, occasionally shouting her name and hearing the groan in reply, getting slightly louder each time, until ...

"There," Fred whispered, and waved his torch at a bundle, lying on the ground.

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Ada thought she was dreaming when she had first heard a voice. She was sure she would die where her father had left her. She had met him at the sheep pen and when she had refused to give him any money he had hit her, so hard she had lost consciousness. He must have thought he had killed her, and to hide his crime had taken her into the mine and left her.

Too sore and bruised from the way he had unceremoniously dumped her she had been unable to move or work out which way to go, now torchlight made circles on the walls.

A soft hand brushed her hair from her face and she could just see Fred's bright blue eyes smiling down at her.

"What'cha doin' down here, girl?" he teased gently, "no place for a lady."

"Can you lift her, Fred?" Phryne took his torch and smiled at his tenderness.

"Sure thing, Mrs Robinson," he slipped his arm under her shoulders, "might hurt a bit, Ada, but we'll get you out of here, missus wants you back in one piece."

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"Mum!" Dan called into the kitchen, "Fred 'nd Mrs Robinson, they're back, Fred's carrying something!"

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Jack arrived back to find a all the children in the parlour with Dan keeping an eye on them.

"They're up in Ada's room, Inspector," he smiled, "they found her, Fred and Mrs Robinson."

It had to be the best news he had heard all day. Mrs Childs would be tried for the murder of her husband, probably jail rather than the noose; as she said she hadn't meant to kill him, just hurt him for what he might have done to Ada. Jack thought the world, or Jamieson at least, was better off without him anyway, though he didn't say so.

Polly toddled over to him and tugged his trousers, "dada?" she held up her arms. He lifted her and kissed her dark curls, "shall we go and find mama?" Polly was usually napping at this time of day so she snuggled into his shoulder and put her fingers in her mouth. If they'd been at home he'd have settled her in her cot, found her mother and, after such a case, ravished Miss Fisher senseless, just as she liked it. Sadly, they weren't at home so she would have to wait for her ravishing!

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They decided to stay over one more night. Welfare came to see the two boys, Frank and Billy, and having no children's home nearby agreed that they could stay with the Robertson's , to their delight.

After discussing the case, assuring Ada she would be alright after the doctor had seen her and declared her a very lucky young woman, badly bruised and dehydrated but, with care and rest she would recover completely, they sat down to dinner. Dot and Cassie had washed her gently, changed her into a nightdress and took turns in seeing she had all she needed and wasn't disturbed by the attentive Fred too much.

"I thought Fred had a sweetheart in town?" Jack noted, helping himself to another spoonful of creamy mashed potatoes.

"Petered out," Cassie noted, "she wasn't prepared to see him occasionally, wanted him to go back into the town and work there, in one of the stores. He said it wasn't for him, he liked the outdoors, animals. They parted on good terms, he's always been fond of Ada, though."

"Nobody had a bad word to say about her," Jack thought about what he had heard in the bunkhouse, "and I expect her brothers are glad to have her near."

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Phryne stretched and sighed, as ravishings went it was one of his best, he certainly hadn't held back. She turned and lifted herself up on one elbow to look at him. He was smiling, his eyes closed and his hands behind his head.

"I'll let you know when you can feel smug, Inspector," she teased, tracing her fingers through the hairs on his chest, down to his belly button then ... he grabbed her hand, "looking for something, Miss Fisher?" he murmured.

"Exploring, Inspector," she hummed back, "I might have missed something."

His breath hitched as she shifted and her other hand continued where the first had left off. "I don't think so," he squeaked as she found what she had 'missed', the fact that he was aroused again.

"Wrong again, Inspector," she teased, licking her lips, "now, how shall we explore thi ... is!" she squealed as he decided to do some 'exploring' himself. "Jack!" she hissed, "oh ... mmph!"

"Come here, Miss Fisher," he lifted her over him, "I need to delve a little deeper into my findings."

She threw her head back and gasped as he did indeed, 'delve deeper' leaving her pink, glistening and frankly, exhausted, falling to his side and placing her head on his chest.

"Now you can feel smug, Inspector, dear," she sighed.

He lay with his arm round her, a very smug look on his handsome features, indeed.

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"Thank you, Phryne," Jacob hugged her, "for all you have done, and on behalf of Ada, too."

"It was our pleasure, Jacob, really," she smiled, "I'm so glad we found her."

Polly was wriggling in her father's arms, wanting to be put down and play with the dogs.

"Another time, Polly," he told her.

"Puppy, dada," she pointed downwards, "pease."

"Not this time, darling," Phryne turned and took her from him, "maybe when you're bigger."

Jack rolled his eyes, hoping Polly would forget, though being her mother's daughter, he doubted it, judging by the little girl's big pout.

"You must come back, for a visit," Cassie smiled, "then you can play with the dogs, Polly, and little Phryne, too." She turned to the Inspector and his wife, "I mean it, please come back and see us."

"We'll save the next Bodgy for you," Jacob laughed, "we get one occasionally."

"We only have a small garden, at the front of the house, Jacob," she sighed, "not enough room for a dog."

Jacob just smiled and watched them put the somewhat annoyed child in her seat, and then said good bye to Dot and the red raggers. Cassie thanked Dot for her help over the few days they were there and said she would be welcome with little Reggie as well. He was not quite as cross as Polly but he also wanted to take a dog with him.

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Mr Butler was happy to see them back, hale and hearty and said he would have dinner ready when they were.

"Bath first, I think," Phryne suggested to her daughter, "for you and me, miss, a very dusty drive."

"Will you be needing me, Miss?" Dot asked, holding Reggie tight before he decided he should be playing under the table with Polly.

"Go home, to Hugh," she smiled and patted her cheek, "he'll have missed you and Reggie."

"Very well, Miss, I shall see you tomorrow," Dot sighed, "come on Reggie, let's go and find dada."

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With dinner over, Polly tucked up in her own cot, Phryne and Jack sat over a whisky and a game of draughts and mused over the case.

"They'll be fine, Phryne," Jack soothed, "Jacob and Cassie are good people, and Ada and the boys are in a safe place, I'm sure they'll be well looked after."

"I know," she yawned, and deftly cleared the board, "you weren't concentrating, Jack," she smiled.

"I think that's enough for tonight," he conceded to her, "bedtime, Mrs Robinson."

"I like the thought of that," she grinned.

"Thought you might." He held out his hand and they headed out of the parlour and up the stairs.


	25. Chapter 25

Phryne smiled and stroked her hand down her stomach. Mac had confirmed what she felt deep down, though she and Jack had had to try a little harder to add to their family this time. Not that she was complaining. She had waited until she missed two cycles before calling on her old friend to take some blood and test it.

"So, you really meant it, when you said you would give Polly a sibling, then," Mac smiled across the desk.

"Of course," Phryne grinned back, "don't suppose I can order a boy, can I? Jack should have a son."

"I'm afraid I'm not that good, darling," she laughed, "but somehow, I have a feeling that what Miss Fisher wants, Miss Fisher will get."

"Well, I best be off," Phryne stood up, "tell Jack the good news."

"Haven't you told him?" Mac raised her eyebrows.

"Not yet, in case it was a false alarm," she tugged on her gloves, "though I feel much the same as I did, the last time."

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Jack was home in time to help put Polly to bed and read her a story. He loved this time with his daughter and many a time Phryne would stand just out of sight and watch him. The depth of his voice, soft and warm, as he read to the little girl, could almost lull her to sleep, it wrapped round her like a cosy blanket on a cold winter's evening.

"She's fast asleep," he slipped out of the room and smiled, "should be out for hours."

"You do that much better than I," she slipped her hand into his.

"You get her all excited as to what happens next," they headed down to dinner, "which is no surprise to me."

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Mr Butler had set out a light meal of poached salmon and asparagus followed by chicken breast wrapped in prosciutto, tiny roast potatoes and glazed carrots. He had made a sauce from the meat juices and white wine. Mrs Robinson had asked that he keep it light, from now on. He had smiled his congratulations but had said nothing when the Inspector returned, he would know when it was common knowledge.

Jack raised his eyebrows at the fruit juice cocktail offered to his wife, while he had his pre dinner whisky.

"Phryne?" he moved to sit next to her, "is there something you should tell me?"

She had, on occasion since Polly was born, continued drinking the various concoctions Mr B came up with, but not at dinner.

"I saw Mac, today," she smiled, "all that practice paid off. Polly shall have her partner in crime."

He put down his glass and took hers off her, "oh, darling," he sighed and pulled her into a long passionate kiss.

"Can you handle the criminal fraternity for a year?" she teased.

"It won't be easy," he laughed, "we may need your insight, if not you chasing anyone round the streets."

"Same rules as before?" she leant her head on his shoulder, "at least I don't need to fly anywhere."

"How do we tell Polly?" he didn't much like the idea of explaining to a two year old that she was going to have a brother or sister, she wasn't the most patient of children.

"Not yet," she shook her head, "let's just leave it until she makes a remark about my changing shape."

"I'll leave it to you, then," he stood and extended his hand, "now, you need to keep your strength up."

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The need to tell Polly came sooner than she planned. At first it had been easy to ignore the growing child inside her, the pregnancy appeared to be following the same pattern as her first one. Phryne carried on with her own cases and appearing at the site of any murders before or very soon after Jack and the City South boys. But it was not an intentional need to help Jack with a case that had her tell Polly she was going to be a 'big sister'.

She and Dot had taken the children to the Botanical Gardens for a walk. It was a warm, but not too warm, day, there were no ongoing cases and the children needed to burn off some of their boundless energy. Hugh had given Reggie a ball to play with and they were trying to kick it and throw it to each other. Reggie had given it, for him, a good kick into some shrubbery. Polly toddled over to find it, pursued by her mother, whose longer legs meant she didn't need to break into a run, but the little girl had already disappeared into the foliage by the time she got there.

"Mama," Polly appeared with the ball, "people sleeping." She pointed behind her, "baby too." She put her fingers to her lips.

Phryne's heart sank. There were people in Melbourne suffering because of the state of finances in the country, some slept rough - but a family?

"Miss," Dot caught her elbow, "should you?"

"Let me see, first, Dot," she patted her companion's arm, "then we can alert whoever we need to."

She took a deep breath and ducked into the greenery. Casting her eyes around she very soon saw what her daughter had found. A couple lay side by side with a small child between them, the woman's arm round him. She held her breath and went to check for signs of life, knowing it was a waste of time. Their grey countenances and the flies on the faces told her all she needed to know. She reached over to the child, a boy by all appearances. She gasped, he was warm, well warmer than the cold corpses of his parents. His face turned up to hers, great big grey eyes stared at her. Slipping her hands under him she pulled him to her and held him close, gagging at the smell of stale urine and soiled clothing.

Dot stared as she headed out into the sunlight. She was ashen and clearly trying to hold her latest meal in.

"Dot ..." she held the child out to her then turned and found a spot far enough from the bodies, and out of sight of Polly, to vomit.

Dot placed the child in the stroller, wrapping him in the blanket and took one of the drinks they carried for the children over to her.

"Miss, here," she held out the weak juice Reggie liked, "rinse your mouth out, then we better go home and call it in."

"Thank you, Dot," Phryne wiped her mouth with her handkerchief, "sorry, but ..."

"That's alright, Miss," Dot rubbed her back, "the little one needs looking after, let's get him back and bathed and fed."

"We'll call Mac," Phryne stood up and breathed in the fresh air, "he wouldn't have lasted much longer."

"No, he wouldn't."

"Mama?" Polly tugged her jacket, "you sick."

"I'm alright, sweetheart," she stroked her head, "really, let's get home."

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Mac was at Wardlow within the hour, Jack and Hugh were at the scene within ten minutes, of the call from Dot.

Dot took the little scrap up to the bathroom, asking Mr Butler to provide Mrs Robinson with some tea and perhaps a ginger biscuit to settle her stomach, on the way.

"Very well, Dorothy," he rumbled, "is she alright?"

"It was upsetting and given her current condition ..." Dot sighed, "I'll explain later. Oh, could you do some warm milk, with a tiny bit of sugar, in one of the baby cups for this one, please?"

"Of course."

Phryne sat sipping her tea and nibbling the ginger biscuit while Polly and Reggie played by her feet.

"That's better," she murmured, to herself.

"Better, mama?" Polly heard her, Jack said she had the ears of a cat.

"Yes thank you, darling," she smiled and stroked her cheek.

"Why sick, mama?"

Phryne sighed, she wouldn't understand but, perhaps if she phrased it right ...

She pulled her daughter onto her lap.

"Mama is going to have a baby, sweet girl," she kissed her forehead, "so, sometimes mama feels a bit poorly. But it will be alright."

Polly tipped her head to one side and processed this information.

"When, mama?" she looked deep into her mother's eyes, "when baby come?"

"A long time yet, Polly, so don't worry about it, mama will be fine, and dada will take care of all of us."

Polly seemed satisfied with this answer and wriggled to get down and play with Reggie.

Dot appeared in the doorway cradling the tiny foundling in her arms. She had dressed him in one of Polly's nappies and a pair of blue leggings and jumper that Polly had grown out of. It was the best she could do, given the only child in the house was a girl.

"How is he, Dot?" Phryne looked up.

"Frail," Dot sat down and gently encouraged the boy to take little sips of the sweetened milk. "I think he was just nursing on his mother, even after she passed." Tears filled her eyes, "a natural pull."

"But ..." Phryne swallowed, "there would be nothing for him!"

"No, there wouldn't."

The way the little boy sipped at the milk had both Dot and Phryne put his age at around ten months or somewhere just short of a year. Definitely weaned, Dot thought. She tried a piece of rusk soaked in the milk and he took it greedily.

"Steady on, little man," she soothed, "there's plenty more, take your time."

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Mac stood at the front door, wondering what trouble her friend had got herself into this time. All Dot had said was they had found a small child that was undernourished and dehydrated. Surely they hadn't kidnapped it?

"Doctor Macmillan," Mr Butler stood aside to admit her. "They are in the parlour."

"Thank you, Mr B," she passed him her hat and headed into the room. To all intents and purposes two friends were having tea with their children.

"Auntie Mac," Polly toddled over and held her arms out.

"Hello Chick," Mac smiled, now used to being addressed thusly, "what's mama been up to?"

"Mama sick," Polly pulled a face.

Mac looked across at Mrs Robinson, who waved her hand dismissively.

"Long story, Mac," Phryne indicated she sit, while she told what had happened ..."so, we need you to look at this little chap."

"I've bathed him and given him some milk and rusk, slowly," Dot shifted so the doctor could sit next to her, "He has a rash on his bottom, and is dreadfully underfed. I couldn't see any bruises or injuries."

"Let's have a look then," the doctor took out her stethoscope and Dot exposed his little chest for her.

"He has a long way to go," she put the instrument away and started to examine him thoroughly as Dot undressed him enough to be seen. "Reflexes are good, but as you both know, he is practically starved. I'll organise a hospital cot for him and inform welfare"

"No," Phryne reached over and caught her arm, "not hospital, he can stay here."

"Phryne," Mac frowned, "you are newly pregnant, he needs a lot of care, night feeds, two hourly ... "

"... and I know he'll get that in the hospital, but he also needs ..."

"... love," Dot interrupted, "he needs cuddles and to know there is someone to hold him. He was with his mother, she was still holding him, even in death ... if you take that from him there will be no reason for him to go on."

Mac looked at her, he was so young to have that understanding, but Dot was Dot, and Phryne ... well, once she had made up her mind ... she sighed.

"He can sleep in the cot," Phryne went on, "Polly is in a big girl's bed, now, we have the room."

"It's not that, Phryne," Mac sighed, "it's the two hour feeds ..."

"I'll manage, I've no ongoing cases ..."

"I'll take over tomorrow," Dot added, "you can rest then ..."

Mac looked from one to the other and knew she would have to relent, though she would have preferred him to have the expert care of medical professionals. Oh well, in that case ...

"Right, if you two are going to do this your way ..."

"I'll have Mr B set another place for dinner and get the guest room ready for you," Phryne grinned.

"Right, but I still have to inform welfare," Mac raised an eyebrow.

"I know, but I think we are in a much better position than we were when Jane came into our lives," Phryne sighed, "if no family come forward."

"Are you saying you want to adopt him? Phryne!"

"Miss! You have your own baby on the way," Dot added her slant on the situation.

"We have everything he needs, at the moment, clothes that will do until he starts to put on weight," Phryne reasoned, "I don't fancy his chances in a children's home."

They both had to agree with her, on that score. The last time they had seen a children's home had been during an investigation into the sale of babies to the well to do, who didn't want to ruin their figures or intimate life with a pregnancy. It had been really rather horrible, grim and dreadfully sad. Especially when it transpired that some of the babies were actually kidnapped to fit the bill.

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Jack was very late, dinner was over and Polly was tucked up in bed having been read to by Auntie Mac. Phryne had had a hard time suppressing her laughter when the little girl requested the story and had taken the book to the doctor and not her mother. Mac had tried to get out of it, but Polly persisted and eventually she had give in and read on from where Jack had stopped the previous night.

The little boy was fed twice more, with milk, rusk and some of the dinner mashed to make it easy for him to digest. He made little noise save for when he was ready to eat, a thin, pathetic cry that made even the hardest heart ache. Dot noticed Mac bite her lip against tears the first time, but she managed not to embarrass herself, keeping it professional.

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He sighed and leant against the door as he closed it. There was a light coming from under the parlour door and soft music playing. Phryne must still be up, and what of the baby they said they had found? He hadn't been able to sort anything out about that, though they had a name for him, and the family.

She looked up and smiled, he looked so tired and desperately sad.

"Hello, Jack," she reached out for him to sit by her, "how's it gone, so far?"

"Phryne, Mac," he nodded over to the doctor and sat down, taking the whisky the silent Mr Butler offered, "awful."

They waited for him to continue. He downed the drink in one and held out the glass for a refill, which was supplied by Mr B, who said he would bring him some dinner, on a tray.

"Thank you," he sighed, "that would be lovely." He was so hungry, not having had anything except biscuits and tea since breakfast.

Phryne watched him, noting the sadness in his eyes. She would wait, she had learned some patience from him, the baby was safe, in the nursery, Polly was asleep, all was steady in the Wardlow bubble. He should eat and drink before he told what he had found out, so far.

"Well," he pushed the tray away and onto the coffee table, "I know you want to know what we have found out."

Eyes were upon him, his wife, Dot (who had stayed over) and Mac all waiting for him to tell the very distressing story he had uncovered.

He sighed.

"You know how puritanical some can be," it was not a question, just a statement of fact. "Well, this is what happens when families cannot bend, see the love two people have for each other. Our couple, Sidney Todd and Aveline Redbone are, were, the little lads natural parents. As you rightly surmise, unmarried."

He told how he and the men had found a little camp, set up in the thick greenery of the Botanical Gardens. In it was the papers that showed the boy, William, was now just over ten months old, his birth certificate showed this. There had been leads to her parents and Hugh had been to see them.

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"Mrs Redbone?" he looked at the woman who opened the door, solid, stern looking, with iron grey hair secured in an unforgiving knot at the nape of her neck.

"I am," her voice was deep, almost masculine, "what of it?"

"Mother of Aveline Redbone?" Hugh continued.

"As I said, what of it?"

"Mrs Redbone," Hugh shifted nervously, "may I come inside?"

"No, you can say what you have to, here," she glared at him.

"I think it would be better ..."

"Say what you have to say, and go," she snapped.

Hugh cleared his throat, "Mrs Redbone, your daughter, Aveline, and her friend, Sidney Todd, have been found in the botanical gardens ..."

She huffed dismissively.

" ... deceased," he continued, "with a baby, barely alive, their son, we believe."

She gasped and clutched her chest, "Aveline?" she all but whispered.

"Shall we continue, inside," he said softly.

She allowed him to enter the spacious hallway but that was as far as he got.

He waited for her to enquire as to the method of her daughter's passing and the whereabouts of her grandson, but she said nothing.

"The baby is being cared for," he suppressed his smile that his wife and Mrs Robinson would not let the baby be sent to an orphanage or to this unfeeling woman. He fully expected to find the baby safely settled at Wardlow.

"I told her he would be the death of her, and it looks like I was right," she sighed, "the boy could have gone to respectable people, adopted."

"I take it you were against the match," Hugh licked his pencil and made a few observations in his notebook.

"Her father cut her off," she admitted, "I could not go against his wishes."

"What do you know of Sidney Todd?" Hugh continued his questioning, they had no information on the man.

"Very little," she huffed, "he worked at an engineering factory, but I think that has had financial difficulties. They came to ask for help but my husband refused and sent them off." There was a hint of regret in her eyes, that she hadn't been stronger, but Hugh understood that not everyone was a determined as Miss Fisher.

Armed with the name of the firm Todd had worked for Hugh had gone to see why he had been let go.

"He wasn't vital to the running of the company so we had to let him go," the owner sighed, "I didn't know he had a family." He shook his head sadly, "he should have said, I may have been able to send him to another factory, some of us have been doing that, with workers we don't need." He thought for a moment, "a child you say."

Hugh nodded.

"Here," the man dug deep into his pocket and pulled out some money, a few pounds, "get him something he needs, it's not much ..."

Hugh could see his regret and, although he was sure Mrs Robinson didn't need the money to take care of the child, he took it.

All he had found out he passed on to the Inspector, and he in turn passed it on to his wife.

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The medical report on the couple was filed along with the case notes. There had been no foul play, they had simply died. They were buried in pauper's graves, Mr Redbone could not bring himself to give his daughter even a simple send off, Phryne was furious and threatened to go and tell him what a miserable excuse for a human he was. Jack stopped her.

"Not your place, Phryne," he wrapped his arms round her, "the best thing we can do, to ensure they didn't die for nothing, is to see William has as good a life as we can give him."

She smiled at him, he was so generous with his love, he could even find space in his heart for the little boy that had taken her out of his bed several times a night.

"Thank you, Jack," she leant against him as they stood in the nursery looking at the sleeping children, "and thank you for keeping welfare off my back."

"They can see we can provide for children, we are a married couple, and they don't want to fill up the orphanages with more 'Williams' if they can help it, after all, they will have to feed and clothe them. I'm sure they see them as a drain on the city's finances."

"After the last case, I'm sure you are right," she took his hand and led him across the hall to their bedroom, "let me reward you."

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Under Phryne, Dot and Mac's care William began to thrive and soon he needed clothes more suitable for a boy. Dot offered some of the things Reggie had grown out of, vests, little romper suits with button on shorts, socks and pyjamas. Phryne did what she did best and went shopping, where she was congratulated on the impending birth of her next child as she was now displaying the customary figure of a mother to be which placed a little strain on the design of her trousers and blouse. Dot had insisted, when she put away the custom made maternity wear after Polly's birth, that they be cleaned and put safely away, if she was to add to the family, and much as Phryne liked the latest fashions, the trousers with 'growing room,' and the long floaty blouses Madame Fleuri has created for her did not look out of place.

She climbed out of the Hispano as Mr Butler came down the path to help her carry her purchases into the house.

"There is a lady from welfare to see you, Mrs Robinson," he held his arms steady while she loaded him up with boxes and bags, "about Master William."

It had made her smile, when, because he always referred to her daughter as Miss Polly he almost immediately gave the boy the title 'Master William'.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting anyone," she pursed her lips, "well, tea I think, Mr B, and some biscuits, I'm a little peckish."

"Mrs Collins has been baking, with the children," he nodded. Phryne knew the kitchen would be covered in a dusting of flour, and because the children would have helped cut the biscuits out they would be all shapes and sizes. Dot had found a set of cookie cutters that were in the shapes of animals: cats and dogs and an elephant, that Reggie was rather fond of. Polly always chose the dog, she was still emphatic in her desire for a puppy.

"Lovely," she thought it might keep welfare happy if the two toddlers were engaged in a little home baking with a motherly type. She, herself, was more likely to take them climbing trees.

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The lady from welfare was far younger than Phryne expected. What she expected was a formidable woman, middle aged and solidly built, well that was the lady that had dealt with Jane's case, this lady was little more than a girl, sweet looking and just a little nervous.

"Miss Forman ... Mrs Robinson," Mr Butler pushed the parlour door open.

Cynthia Forman stood up and held out her hand, shakily, "Mrs Robinson," she smiled, tentatively, "how nice to meet you. I've heard such a lot about you."

"Poor you," Phryne took her hand and favoured her with a lovely reassuring smile, "but you mustn't believe all you read in the newspapers."

"Oh, no, not that," she stammered, "about you accepting people, for who or what they are. My predecessor, Mrs Timson, gave you a glowing report, after you took Jane as your ward."

"Really?" she indicated they sit, "well, I don't know what to say."

Even Miss Forman could see it was unusual for Mrs Robinson to be struck speechless.

Mr Butler broke the silence by bringing in a tray of tea and, rather wobbly, biscuits, closely followed by Miss Polly and Master Reggie. Dot was behind them, carrying little William, now a much healthier looking, if small, baby.

"He tried to pull himself up on the chair, Miss," Dot smiled, "while you were out."

Phryne held out her arms for him, "aren't you clever, William?" she dropped a kiss on his downy head, "what do you think, Polly?"

She clambered up onto the chaise and wrapped her chubby arms round him, "William stay, mama, please?"

She had been so gentle with him, taking her toys and books to him and even giving him one of her soft toys, a floppy little rabbit, to keep him company in the cot.

Phryne was somewhat of an indulgent mother, Jack kept telling her not to give in so easily, but even she couldn't guarantee this request.

"Well, you see, darling," she started to explain, "William has a grandmama, and ..."

"Mrs Robinson," Miss Forman reached over and touched her knee, "about that..."

"Yes, Miss Forman," she looked up.

"Well, it would seem," she sipped her tea, "Mr Redbone will have nothing to do with William, I won't say what he called him, not in front of the children, but it wasn't nice. He insists that he be adopted by ..." she looked down at her file, "... whichever gullible family can be persuaded to take him. Sorry."

Phryne could barely contain her temper, but, with Polly and Reggie around, not to mention the child in question, she just about managed it.

"I'll show him gullible," she hissed, "William is more than welcome to join our growing family, he will be loved, educated and taught to be accepting as well as enquiring."

"I think he is going to have a wonderful life," Miss Forman nodded, and Phryne thought she noticed tears in her eyes.

"We will do our very best," Phryne smiled, "and, before you ask, he will be treated the same as Polly and the new baby."

Miss Forman stood up, "I shall finalise the paperwork then. It has been lovely meeting you, Mrs Robinson, and," she turned to Polly and Reggie, "your biscuits were lovely."

Polly beamed with pride, Miss Forman had taken one of the dog shaped biscuits.

"Which one was yours?" she looked at Reggie, who pointed to an elephant shaped biscuit, well, possibly an elephant.

"I better try one of those, hadn't I?"

She took one and bit into it, grinning, "just as lovely."

Reggie smiled, he was shyer than Polly, but he was still as full of pride as she was.

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Phryne noticed her, loitering just down from the house. A majestic, severe looking woman, possibly in her fifties. At first she ignored her, Rosie was still residing in the hospital, and to her knowledge there were no other Sanderson's that would wish her harm, other than George, but he too, was locked up. It didn't worry her, unduly, but after two or three sightings she began to feel nervous. Part of this she put down to her rampant hormones, the pregnancy, and part of it the memory of what Rosie had done.

It was Hugh that shone light on the situation. He was on his way to Wardlow with some files for Mrs Robinson to look at, concerning the latest case.

"It's Mrs Redbone, isn't it?" he politely touched his helmet.

She looked at him, then remembered, he was the gentle young officer who had brought her the sad news of her daughter's death. She started to turn away, embarrassed.

"Are you wishing to see Mrs Robinson?" he prompted, "I know she's in, I'm just going in myself."

"I er ... perhaps not," she took a step in the opposite direction.

"She's very fair minded, if you give her the chance," Hugh had a feeling she wanted to see her grandson, and going against her husband's wishes. He pushed the gate open, "after you, madam," he nodded. Agatha Redbone found herself standing on the step at the front door, wondering how she had got from the gate to there.

Hugh took out a key and let himself in.

"You have a key, constable?" she raised her eyebrows.

"My wife is Mrs Robinson's companion and secretary," he pushed the door open, "I don't always use it, most times I go in by the kitchen, but you are a guest." He ushered her in.

"Dottie, Mrs Robinson!" he called, "only me!"

Footsteps were heard, quick children's steps and more adult, yet not sedate ones behind them.

"Dada," Reggie held up his arms, "up."

"Hello, son," he lifted Reggie up with one hand, "hello Miss," he greeted Polly.

"'lo Uncle Hugh," Polly grinned.

"Hugh," Phryne called through, "have you the files? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise we have a visitor." She smiled a welcoming smile, though she recognised her as the woman who had been loitering.

"This is Mrs Redbone, Mrs Robinson," he passed the files over, "I think she would like to speak to you."

"Of course," Phryne pushed the parlour door open, "do come in."

"I'll see if Dottie can rustle up some tea, shall I?" Hugh was at a loss for a moment, as to where he should be, kitchen or parlour. Phryne nodded her assent.

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"Hugh," Dottie looked up from giving William some milk and rusk, "I'm sorry, I would have come to the door. Why did you come in the front, kitchen not good enough for you?" she teased.

"Visitor, Mrs Redbone," he bent down and kissed her, "I think she wants to see William."

"Oh," she thought for a brief moment, "here, you finish this, he just needs his face wiping, I'll get the tray."

"He's doing ever so well, Dottie," he wiped the boy's face and hands, "he's going to catch our Reggie up, at this rate."

"I think he'll always be small," Dottie warmed the pot, "but that's ok, as long as he's healthy."

"True," he lifted him up, "well, my boy," he smiled and ruffled his soft hair, now so much thicker, blond curls, "let's go and see grandmama."

"Hugh," Dot touched his arm, "you don't think she wants to take him away, do you?"

"She wouldn't stand a chance, legally adopted," Hugh reminded her, "I think she just wants to see him, see he's alright. I don't think she agreed with her husband."

"Right, well," Dot finished laying the tray, "lead on."

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Mrs Redbone sat nervously, watching Mrs Robinson with the children. She had heard a lot about the socialite, how she had 'played around', her husband had been very scathing about the antics posted in the newspaper. What she saw here was an elegant woman, exquisitely dressed, completely at ease with young children. She had never had quite that bond with Aveline, though she did love her, the nanny did most of the things that would have made the bond tighter.

"So, Mrs Redbone," Phryne passed Polly a toy car that she had, somehow put the wheel back on, "what can I do for you?"

Polly and Reggie played happily racing the little cars across the wooded floor.

"It's difficult," the woman leant forward, "if my husband finds out I'm here ..."

"I don't break confidences, Mrs Redbone, unless it's a matter of life and death."

"It's about William ..."

"You do know my husband and I have formally adopted him," Phryne pursed her lips, "nobody came forward to claim him."

Hugh chose that precise moment to enter the room, with the child in question in his arms, followed by Dot carrying the tea tray.

William reached out for his mother, closing and opening his little fists, "mama," he giggled.

"Hello, young man," she accepted him onto her lap, "had your snack?"

"nack," he nodded, "milk."

Phryne managed to find a piece of almost dry rusk and milk in one of his curls, despite Hugh wiping him down.

"... and I see you are wearing it," she kissed him. "Now, are you going to play with Polly and Reggie?"

She put him down on the floor and he crawled over to the other two children, where Polly passed him another car. True to form he put it in his mouth and gave it a good gumming, as Phryne would say, before rolling it along the floor, copying his companions.

"He looks better than I expected," Mrs Redbone accepted a cup of tea, "I thought he would be thinner."

"Oh he was, a little scrap of a thing," Dot agreed, passing her mistress her tea, "he's gained weight, well, Dr Macmillan is very pleased with him."

"I'm not here to ask you to give him up, Mrs Robinson," she sipped the drink, "I just wanted to see him. I've had a lot of time to think. Aveline was our only child, Henry, my husband, was disappointed we didn't have a boy."

"Men," Phryne rolled her eyes.

"Er, yes, quite," she swallowed, "anyway, he didn't like Sidney, the man she took up with, thought she could do better, much better. Refused to allow her to marry him, cut her off, thinking she would come crawling back, tail between her legs."

"But she didn't, did she?" Phryne whispered.

"As stubborn as her father," tears filled Mrs Redbone's eyes, "he wouldn't back down, even when Sydney lost his job and they had nowhere to go. I don't have money of my own, I gave all that up when I married."

"So, why are you here?" Phryne thought she was torturing herself.

"I wanted you to know that I'm glad William has found a good home," she sniffed and straightened her back, "everyone knows you care deeply for your children, and that you took a girl in and made her your ward. I also wanted to ask a favour, which I will completely understand if you refuse."

"Go on," Phryne hummed.

"I want to be able to see him, once in a while," she put her cup down, "not do anything, or take him anywhere, just perhaps, if you are out for a walk, the Botanical Gardens ... you don't have to tell him who I am, just a friend."

"I suppose that would be alright," Mrs Robinson looked at Dot, who nodded slightly, "we don't go there all the time ... sometimes we take them to the foreshore."

"I understand, and I won't make plans," she seemed relieved that she hadn't been shown the door, "just, if I happen to see you may I come and speak to you, as an acquaintance?"

There was no reason for Phryne to say 'no'. She spoke to many people when she was out for a walk, Concetta still took her walk along the esplanade ... so she agreed , on the proviso that Mrs Redbone stopped loitering outside the house.

"Of course," she stood up, "now I must go, and thank you, for seeing me."

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Phryne thought no more about William's grandmama, she had other things on her mind. The murder of a maid at a hotel had Jack ask her to be there when he searched the rooms and question the staff and guests.

She sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. It was a small room, at the top of the building, in the attic space. It was sparsely furnished, a bed, dressing table with chair, and wardrobe. The maid, Sarah, had personalised the space with a small rug by the bed and some little crocheted mats on the dressing table, it was all rather sad, she thought, lonely.

"There appear to be no letters," Jack broke through her thoughts, "no indication she had any family."

Phryne hummed and went to the wardrobe.

"Pass me the suitcase," she pointed to the top, "please."

It was almost dust free, which, to the Lady Detective, indicated it was used, or looked at regularly. Inside were a few out of season things, gloves and a scarf and a tiny baby's bonnet.

"Jack, look," she lifted it up and balanced it on her finger, "this is for a newborn."

"As far as I know she had no family," he looked closely, "didn't Dorothy make something like this when you were expecting Polly?"

"She made several, and for Reggie," Phryne smiled at the memory of her little girl in her gowns and the little bonnets. "Jack?" she put it down, gently, as if the babe was wearing it, "was she untouched?"

"I'll have to ask Mac, she did the autopsy," he made a note. "Anything else?"

"Strange Mac didn't check," Phryne returned to the suitcase, "hello ... what's this?"

Jack moved over to look at what she had found.

"Beautiful mending," she observed, holding out her hand for his penknife, "what is she hiding?"

Under the lining Phryne found a bank book, the latest entry was for five hundred pounds. Previous entries took the total to a thousand.

"Not her wages, Jack," she mused, "I'm generous, but not that generous. What is all this money for?"

Jack firmly pulled the rest of the lining down and found the answer to her question, a birth certificate.

"For a boy," he read. "Charles Alexander ... " he smiled as she ran her hand over her six month bump, "kicking?"

"Yes, perhaps he likes the name," she smiled, "father?"

"Yes?" he smiled, "Oh, sorry, yes the father is named, Henry Redbone."

"Redbone!" her eyebrows shot up, "Henry Redbone is William's grandfather. You don't suppose ..."

"...that he paid Sarah to have his baby and when it turned out to be the boy he was sorry he didn't have with his wife, he paid her extra."

"So where is the child?" she took the certificate, "he's only a couple of months old."

"Right," he stowed the paperwork in his jacket pocket, "let's have a word with Henry Redbone."

"Me too?" she asked, hopefully.

"Only if you can let me do the talking," he opened the door and let her step out, "no telling him what you think of him."

"I'll behave," she slipped her hand through the crook of his arm and they headed down to the ground floor.

"Did the owner not say anything about Sarah, having a child?" Phryne asked, "or did she arrive after the baby was born?"

"Good question," he stopped and checked his notebook, "ah, Sarah only started a month ago, no sign of a baby in tow."

"Damn," she hissed.

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Henry Redbone was not best pleased to be interrupted in his office by a police officer and a socialite.

"Aveline made her bed, now she must lie on it," he huffed.

"Yes," Phryne started, then stopped as Jack put his hand on her arm, his eyes said 'later.'

"Indeed, we are well aware of Aveline's 'bed'," he nodded, "that aside, we are not here about Aveline."

"Say what you have to and go, I'm busy," Redbone grumbled. A pretty young secretary came in with a cup of tea for him.

"Can I get your visitors some, sir?" she asked, sweetly.

"They aren't staying," he snapped.

Phryne could have done with a cup but, "actually, could I have a glass of water, please?"

The girl looked at her boss, he shrugged his shoulders, which she took as a 'yes', and she was back in the blink of an eye with a cool glass of iced water.

"Thank you," she sipped the welcome drink, she seemed to need to hydrate more with this pregnancy.

"We are here about Sarah Howard," Jack opened his notebook, "we have reason to believe she gave birth to a son, your son." He waited for a reaction. Redbone's back stiffened.

"Never heard of the girl," he snarled.

"Not what the birth certificate says," Jack held the paper just out of reach.

"You paid her," Phryne could hold her tongue no longer, "you paid her to have your child, and when it turned out to be a boy you paid her a final fee." She waited, the man blustered and reddened, in fact he turned puce, "where is the baby?" she asked, quietly.

"Why did you kill Sarah?" Jack added.

There was a silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the wall.

"Mr Redbone?" Jack spoke, "why did you kill Sarah?"

"Where is the baby?"

The door opened and Mrs Redbone entered, carrying a tiny bundle, "he's here, Mrs Robinson," she said softly. "I found him, in the housekeeper's room. I heard a cry and, went upstairs. Mrs Berry was in the kitchen, you see, she couldn't hear down there."

Henry Redbone stood up and held out his arms for the baby.

"No, Henry," she held him closer, "you don't want a child to love, you want an heir. Aveline could have been your heir, she was clever enough to run the business, but you wouldn't have that, she was a girl. This little chap, may not be mine but he will have the love you couldn't give our daughter from me." She turned to the Inspector, "I believe Henry killed Sarah because she wouldn't give him up, because she wanted to raise him herself. A mother's love, as you know, Mrs Robinson, can be all consuming. I've seen you with your daughter, and with William, you would move heaven and earth for them, and I will or this little one."

"His name is Charles," Phryne smiled, "Charles Alexander, according to his birth certificate."

"Hello, Charles," she smiled at him, "I'm sorry your father is such a sad man, but I will do my best to make you happy." She turned to her husband, "some men are not born to be fathers, Henry, you are one of them. I would have happily given you more children, but you would not try again. You said it was all my fault we had a girl. I don't think that's true, I think it is fate." She turned back to the Inspector and his wife, "tell me, Inspector, if the baby your wife is carrying turns out to be another girl, would it bother you?"

"God, no!" he blurted out, "it could have three heads, but it would still be my child and I, we, will love it whatever it turns out to be."

Phryne thought three heads was going a bit far, but she knew what he meant, and she reached out for his hand, to squeeze it, briefly.

Jack shook himself and took out his handcuffs, relieved they had not come in the Hispano, "Henry Redbone, I am arresting on a charge of the murder of Sarah Howard ..."

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Jack smiled at the tiny bundle in his arms. Born a little earlier than expected Sebastian John Robinson was feisty, like his mother, who lay sleeping after a fairly easy birth, at home, as she had two and a half years ago. He had just the one head, as Jack remembered the conversation in Henry Redbone's office that day, and that head was perfect, as was the rest of him.


	26. Chapter 26

Sorry for the delay in updating this. As well as the muse going walkabout and work getting in the way, I was wondering if there was any more mileage in this story. I'm sure you will tell me if I should continue.

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Margaret took the receiver from the maid. Her daughter had called and she rarely phoned, connections were never that good. However she did write regularly.

"Phryne, darling," she smiled down the phone, "how are you?"

In her bedroom in Melbourne, Phryne Fisher Robinson shifted her hold on her new born son, sleeping after his first feed, "very well, mother," she sighed, "just wanted to let you know we have a son, Sebastian John."

"A boy, oh, Phryne, congratulations to you both," Margaret sat down on the seat beside the little table immediately wondering if they could manage a trip to see them. "Isn't he a little early?"

"Couple of weeks," Phryne agreed, "but he's fine, six and a half pounds and a good pair of lungs."

"Oh darling, I am so happy for you," her mother grinned, "now, would it be alright if we came over to see you, but we'll give you time to get over the birth, first."

"You know we would love to see you, and you can meet William," she said, "he's coming on a treat, Polly loves him."

"Ah, yes, the little orphan you adopted," Margaret mused, "for someone who wasn't interested in having a family you seem to have rather a large one, now, darling."

"Funny old world," she yawned, "and no one is more surprised than me, but with Jack by my side, life is an even bigger adventure."

"You get some rest, Phryne, dear," her mother said, "I shall let you know when we are likely to arrive."

"Right, I'll book you into the Windsor again, shall I?"

"That would be lovely," Margaret agreed, "I shall keep your father's cigars under lock and key, or the ocean, whichever is easiest."

Phryne laughed and looked up at Jack as he entered the room, bearing a tray of sandwiches and tea. She put the phone down and swapped her hold on the baby for the food. She was rather hungry and knew she had to feed herself in order to feed her son.

"Alright?" Jack sat down on the side of the bed and cradled his son, "how was your mother?"

Fine, sends her congratulations," she swallowed a mouthful of tea, "they're going to come over to meet Sebastian and William. Not immediately, but I would guess as soon as she can get passage."

"Only to be expected, darling," he smiled, "this is the future Baron I hold in my arms, isn't it?"

"It is, Sebastian, Baron of Richmond," she giggled, "the title's bigger than he is. I hope he'll be a better holder of the title than his grandfather."

"With your guiding hand, love, I'm sure he will be just perfect."

"And yours, Jack, you will show him the right way," she reached over and squeezed his hand.

"We, Phryne," he bent forward and kissed her gently, "together, we'll set them all on the right path, and hope they stay on it."

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He settled the baby into his bassinet and left Phryne to rest. She was more inclined to behave this time, but still hoped to be down in the parlour at the end of the week. Mac said there was no reason not to be but had still told her she would visit each day to check her and the baby over.

Jack's mother had also sent her congratulations when he phoned her and asked if they would like her to come over and help out, at least with the older children if not the baby. He had said he would check with his still rather independent wife, first, but did invite her over to visit as soon as she wanted to.

He put the offer to Phryne as she finished the last piece of Mr Butler's quiche.

"Oh, yes," she nodded enthusiastically, she and Violet got on famously, "tell her she is welcome to stay as long as she wants, Polly will be delighted and it will be good for William to get used to her being around. He has barely seen her."

"I'll let her know, then," he smiled, "would you mind if I invited my sister over, to see him?"

"Of course not," Phryne pushed the tray down to the end of the bed, "we don't see enough of her and the children, and you'd better ring Aunt Prudence."

"Already done," he tucked his son into the bassinet, took the tray to the dressing table and positioned himself on the bed to hold her for a while, while they had some peace.

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Violet was mobbed by Polly as soon as she stepped into the house, closely followed by William toddling behind her.

"Gamma!" Polly opened her arms and wrapped them round Violet's legs.

"Polly, my dear, why how you've grown," she lifted her up for a hug and a kiss then set her down to greet William, "and you too, William, such a big boy now."

He giggled and snuggled against her, William was a cuddler.

"Mama has a new baby, Gamma," Polly tugged her hand, "you come and see."

"Let me get my coat off, and wash my hands, sweetheart," Violet smiled, "tell me what his name is."

"Bastian," Polly stammered out, "Bastian John."

Violet laughed at the approximation of her newest grandchild's name and let Mr Butler relieve her of the coat and hat.

"They are in the parlour, Mrs Robinson," he murmured, "tea will be served presently."

"Thank you Mr Butler," she nodded, "it's nice to see you again."

"And you, madam."

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In the parlour, Phryne had heard Violet arrive, or rather she had heard the squeals of delight from her daughter, and settled Sebastian in the cradle, smoothed her dress down and sat on the chaise.

The door opened and Violet advanced towards her with her arms wide to embrace her daughter in law.

"Phryne," she kissed her on both cheeks, "you look wonderful, dear, and downstairs already, marvellous!"

"Hello, Violet," Phryne grinned, "yes, Mac said I should be alright downstairs, as long as I behave myself. Please sit with me, Sebastian is asleep, as you can see."

"Polly called him Bastian," Violet took the offered seat, "I think his full name is a bit of a mouthful for her."

"William just calls him baba," Phryne laughed, "but they both love him, so far."

"Jack didn't say much on the phone," Violet continued, "just that it had been an easy birth, but he's a man, what would he know?" she laughed as she remembered chastising him over the remark, "and that he will take the title of Baron of Richmond in the fullness of time. I expect your parents are pleased."

"They will be over, when they can get passage," Phryne confirmed, "and Jack is right, it wasn't too bad, but we have agreed that four is enough, or we'll have to move. There will come a time when we won't be able to have overnight visitors."

Mr Butler chose that moment to bring a tray of tea and little cakes in, and Dot had thoughtfully added two glasses of milk for the older children. Margaret would be horrified at having two small children drinking milk in her parlour, but Polly and William knew that if they behaved and sat nicely they could take tea with mama and gamma rather than in the kitchen.

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Things seemed to slip back to how they were when Polly was born. Violet helped in the kitchen, minded the older children and Reggie, and Phryne continued to recover well. She was downstairs for most of the day in the parlour and by the second week had taken Bassie, as Sebastian was now known, out for a short walk round the block in the pram. By the time he was a month old they were a familiar sight, Phryne pushing the pram, Violet, Dot, Polly, William and Reggie, heading to the gardens or the foreshore and occasionally they were joined by Jack and Hugh, when duties allowed.

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"Now, Henry," Margaret touched his arm, "you know there is not enough room at Wardlow for us to stay. Phryne has booked us into the Windsor, we shall be quite comfortable there."

"Violet stays there," he huffed, "why is it her and not us?"

"Oh for heaven's sake," she signed the hotel register, "Violet is helping with the older children, I can't see you doing that." She smiled and nodded at the concierge as he called for a porter to carry their luggage to their suite.

"And you?" he asked, "would you help?"

"Of course, but I am happy to do what I can when we are there," she answered honestly, "neither Phryne nor Violet are possessive."

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The suite was large and well appointed, with its own sitting room and bathroom. Margaret looked round, she was much like her daughter in habits and decided that the large scroll-footed bath was particularly inviting, after a long voyage and dusty drive from the docks, she would have a hot and relaxing bath, before telephoning her daughter and informing her of their arrival.

Henry slumped into the couch and took out a cigar.

"Oh no you don't," she plucked it from his fingers and dropped it in a waste-bin, "you can get out of the habit before we go to greet Sebastian and welcome him into the family. You know how Phryne felt about them when Polly was born."

"Phht," he blew out, "no cigars and I suppose you are going to stop me drinking, as well."

"It won't do you any harm, Henry," she huffed, sounding rather like Lady Bracknell, "you were a little, how would Phryne put it, well oiled, most nights on the way out here."

Henry pouted and watched his wife head into the bathroom. He couldn't see her smile, though the way she straightened her shoulders indicated she was not to be trifled with, that she meant what she said.

While Margaret soaked in the bath, Henry read the paper, thoughtfully provided by the hotel, skimming over the news about the financial woes of the country and heading straight to the racing pages, wondering if there was a chance he could place a few bets. There was probably a waiter or porter who was in the know, someone he could get to put his bets on. He cocked his head and listened to the sounds coming from the bathroom. He knew his wife would be some time, soaking the journey away, so he stood up and headed to the door.

"Don't even think about going to the bar or to find a bookie's runner," the voice came from the bathroom.

How did she know? He turned round but she was still in the bath, so how ...?

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Margaret knew her husband well, and knew she had waited long enough, that he would have read the paper and decided which half dead nag he was going to lose his money on. It seemed only right she should remind him that she was well aware he would try to sneak out.

She heard him stomp back to the couch and flop into it. She smiled and lay back, smoothing soft suds down her arm, inhaling the scent of rose crystals. Life was so much easier now, since Phryne had been over to England and sorted out the finances. So much had happened since those dark days, she felt the sun had come out and no clouds dimmed the warmth and light. Now the estate worked well, it kept itself and them in relative comfort, all the bills were paid and the staff were happy. Then Phryne had really surprised them and presented them with two grandchildren, one of which, Sebastian, would one day inherit the estate. His parents would see he was well educated and well placed to take over and probably modernise the running of the estate. The world was changing and the younger generation would have ideas far and away beyond her thinking.

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When she finally came out of the bathroom, wearing a rather becoming robe in china blue silk, Henry had fallen asleep on the couch and was sitting with his head thrown back, his mouth open, making the most unattractive noises. Still, he was still in the suite ... she smirked.

Deciding against waking him, she tiptoed to the telephone at the side of the bed and rang down for afternoon tea, for both of them, then put a call through to Phryne.

"Darling," she smiled into the receiver, "how are you?"

She had a lovely conversation with her daughter that culminated with an invitation to tea the following day. The invitation included Henry, as long as he left his cigars at home.

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Phryne felt content, which surprised her. Never, since she had left England to drive ambulances during the war, had she felt so content. In fact, she mused to herself as she gave Sebastian a feed, she didn't think she had been this content since Janey. The thought caused a tear to roll down her cheek, and she wondered what Janey would think.

"Phryne?" Jack had entered the bedroom, "are you alright?"

She looked up and smiled, "yes, just thinking about Janey, and what she would make of me sitting here, feeding my second child."

"She'd be sitting here smiling," he stroked Bassie's head with his finger, "and I can't help but think she is, always."

"Oh, Jack," she sniffed, "not fair."

"Sorry," he leant forward and kissed her gently, "but I have always felt, since we found her that she is here, with you, and I think you do to."

"I think, when we found her," she admitted, "I felt whole again."

"Still inclined to be a bit reckless, though," he scooted onto the bed and sat beside her, "which is why I love you so, and why I know our children will always be safe, in an unconventional way."

"Why settle for boring," she smiled, "when there is fun to be had out there, and learning to be self sufficient, strong, resilient."

"Indeed."

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Margaret and Henry duly arrived to take tea with their daughter and grandchildren the following afternoon. Henry traipsed behind his wife, rather like a recalcitrant child, carrying some gifts for the children, a large, wooden toy train for William and a soft bodied doll for Polly, with a composite head and limbs. The doll was clothed in a frilly dress and a deep red velvet fitted coat, bonnet and little black button boots, for the baby it had been decided he should have a teddy bear. Margaret, mindful of the other children in the house; Reggie and Jane; carried a wooden truck for Dot's son, and a book of Ancient History for Jane, beautifully illustrated with sketches and photographs. She had considered a dress or some other item of clothing, but decided that Phryne would see she was dressed smartly and probably rather expensively, and she wasn't sure how much the young girl had grown.

Mr Butler opened the door and ushered in the guests, inwardly smiling at Henry grumbling away.

"Some help, Lord Fisher?" he offered.

"Lovely," the peer grunted, "gifts, children, y'know."

"Of course, sir," Mr Butler bowed politely.

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In the rear parlour, Dot was supervising the children; Polly and Reggie were playing with some wooden bricks, building some kind of structure that only they knew what it was, William still required a nap mid afternoon and was on a large floor cushion in the corner, flat on his back with his arms flung over his head. Her mistress was upstairs feeding Sebastian, a normal afternoon at Wardlow. She heard the front door go and the mutterings of voices and surmised that Phryne's parents had arrived. Phryne had told her not to worry about the state of the room.

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"It is the children's playroom, first and foremost," she smiled, "we shall take tea in the front parlour, but I should like the children to join us for as long as possible."

"Of course, Miss," Dot laughed, "until Polly gets bored ..."

"... or gets frightened by her grandfather."

"Do you think that will happen, Miss?" Dot's eyes widened, "I don't see him as frightening little children."

"I'm not sure if I would call him grandfather material, really," Phryne sighed, "he certainly wasn't a good parent, as you know, I don't know if he will be different with grandchildren. Remember, he only met Polly when she was a couple of months old, she wasn't old enough to interact with him."

"I suppose not," Dot tipped her head to one side, "is he going to smoke those cigars?"

"Mother has said she will encourage him to leave them behind, in fact she said she would keep them under lock and key, or the ocean, which would be preferable. I am absolutely sure she hates them as much as I do."

"Good," Dot drew her shoulders up, "I'm sure they aren't good for the children."

"I don't think they are particularly good for the rest of us, either," Phryne laughed.

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Upstairs Phryne had also heard her parents arrive. Bassie was still suckling and she wasn't minded to stop him until he had had his fill. He was an easy baby, fed well and slept for long periods during the night. His mother decided he had more of his father's temperament than hers and Violet had confirmed Jack was the same as a baby. She let him finish, winded and changed him, then settled him in the middle of the bed while she tidied herself up, repaired her make-up and brushed her hair.

"Well, my little Honourable boy," she picked him up and kissed his soft downy head, "let's go and introduce you to your grandparents, shall we?"

Bassie snuffled in his sleep and flexed his little fingers before settling in his mother's arms.

Mr Butler had settled the Baron and Baroness in the front parlour and Violet had joined them, saying Phryne would be down soon as she was seeing to the baby.

"I take it she still has no intention of hiring a nanny, not even now she has three small children?" Margaret mused.

"Not as far as I know," Violet smiled, "Dot is a great help, Reggie plays with Polly and William joins in as much as he can. Jane helps when she is home and hasn't much homework to do, but she is considering hiring another maid; live out; mainly to help Mr Butler."

"I thought she was going to after Portia was born," Margaret gave the little girl her 'Sunday' name, the one used when she was in trouble.

"She considered it, but Mr Butler said he could manage, and once Reggie was born Dot took up her duties again, really, things go along pretty well, I hear," Violet was sure Phryne would have mentioned all this in her letters, though she knew the idea of another maid was more than an idea this time, It was finding the right person, that was all that was needed.

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When she got to the bottom of the stairs, Phryne decided to collect the other children before heading into the parlour to see her parents. She pushed the door to the children's room and saw that William had woken from his nap and was being tidied up by Dot. Polly's ribbons had been retied in her dark curls and her dress smoothed out, Reggie had had his hair smoothed down by his fastidious mother, and his shirt tucked in; their faces were clean, perfectly presentable.

"Mama," Polly skipped over to her, "has Bassie had his milk?"

"He has, darling girl," her mother smiled and caressed her cheek, "shall we take him to meet Grandmother and Grandfather Fisher?"

"Alright," Polly took her hand, "are they nice?"

Trust her daughter to put her on the spot like that, an honest answer would be too complicated for her to understand, and a simple yes would not be a full truth.

"Let's see," was all she could come up with, let the child make up her own mind. "Come along, William, Dot will you bring the boys, please?"

"Of course, Miss," she took their hands, "come on boys, front parlour."

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"Tea in fifteen minutes, Miss?" Mr Butler opened the door for her.

"Lovely," she smiled, "the children will be joining us."

"Of course, Miss."

Margaret turned round and smiled, Phryne looked wonderful, she thought. Polly stood quietly by her mother, wondering whether she could run over to Gamma or should stay close to her mother. The new lady sitting in the chair nearest the fire looked kind, she was smiling, which was always a good sign. She knew the new people were Mama's Mama and Papa and that they had come to see her when she was a baby, like Bassie was now, but she didn't remember them.

"Well, Polly," Margaret held out her hand, "haven't you grown into quite the young lady, just like your mama when she was a little girl." It was true, although Polly's hair had a wave to it, she was very much like the two year old Phryne to look at.

"Little minx," Henry muttered, then hissed as Margaret's toe connected with his shin, he cleared his throat, "quite, very like her."

Polly wasn't sure about Henry, but she obediently went to her Grandmother and accepted a kiss to the cheek, she smelled like mama's lavender bath salts.

"So this is your little brother," Margaret continued to address Polly as Phryne handed Bassie over to her, "is he a good baby?"

Polly nodded.

"Cat got your tongue?" Henry asked, a little sharply, Polly flinched.

"Take no notice of Grandpa," Margaret patted her hand, "he's just grumpy because I won't let him smoke his cigars. They smell horrid."

"Oh," Polly didn't know what a cigar was but she was rather glad her grandmother had stopped him bringing something smelly into the house.

"You look wonderful, Phryne dear, happy?"

"I am, mother, thank you," Phryne smiled and pulled William onto her knee, "this is William, he's a little shy."

"I don't blame you, William," Margaret smiled, "new grown-ups can be a bit frightening." She looked again at Phryne, who she thought had never looked happier, "there are some gifts for the children, I hope they are suitable."

"That's very kind of you, mother, you didn't have to."

"I'm their grandmother, Phryne, it's my duty to spoil them," Margaret laughed, "now, eldest first, I think, so, Polly, this is for you, I hope you like it." She passed the child a large box with a bright red ribbon on the lid. Polly put it on the floor and, with a little help, lifted the lid to reveal the doll. Her eyes widened like saucers. She had a couple of dolls, a rag doll that Dot had made for her when she was just toddling, she adored it because Aunty Dot had made it just for her, it had been washed and loved and washed again. She had a hard bodied doll, with dark ringlets, was dressed in a blue dress and white bloomers. The bonnet had long gone, driven over by the toy cars that were regularly whizzed over the floor and it only had one shoe, but Polly still loved it. Phryne's eyes were almost as wide, it wasn't a doll for playing with, she thought.

"Mother," she whispered, "that's a very expensive present."

"Aren't I allowed to spoil my granddaughter, dear?" Margaret huffed, "it has a soft body so is for playing with, not to be sat on a shelf and looked at. Now," she turned to another box, "this is for William," she offered the box to the little boy, still sitting on his mother's knee, "for you, young man," she smiled at him.

William looked at Phryne, she smiled and nodded and helped him slide down to toddle over. Polly helped him with the lid and he too sat there with eyes wide open at the sight before him.

"Twain, Mama," he grinned, "big one."

"It's almost as big as you, William," Phryne laughed, "now what do you two have to say to Grandmother?"

"Tank oo," William smiled shyly.

"Thank you, Gran'mo," Polly patted her knee, "she's beautiful."

"You are most welcome, children," Margaret smiled, "now, Reggie, I haven't forgotten you ..."

"Oh, Lady fisher," Dot blushed, "really, you didn't have to."

"Of course I did, my dear," Lady Fisher smiled, "you are not just a servant, you are part of Phryne's family. An unusual family, I admit, but nevertheless ... now, Reggie, this is for you." She held out another box, not quite as big as the other two, but sizeable nonetheless.

Reggie looked to his mother for assurance then walked slowly over to take the box. He sat down and lifted the lid, with a little help from his mother. He lifted the truck out. He turned it round in his hands and smiled.

"Truck!" he declared, "big truck!"

"Oh, goodness," Dot breathed, "it's lovely, what do you say, Reggie?"

The little boy put the truck down and ran over to Margaret, wrapped his arms round her knees and lay his head down, "ta!" he giggled.

Margaret laughed and ruffled his fair curls, "you are welcome, Reggie, most welcome."

Mr Butler chose that minute to bring a tray of tea in. Dot turned to go and fetch the rest of the refreshments, small sandwiches, scones with preserve and cream, small cakes and biscuits. Glasses of milk were provided for the children, and lastly Mr Butler brought in the three small stools the children used when sitting at a side table in the parlour.

"Lovely, thank you Mr Butler," Phryne smiled, she was a tad peckish, it being nearly three hours since lunch which had been light, and she found she was rather hungry after feeding Bassie.

Henry raised his eyebrows at the children eating in the parlour but Margaret remarked on their lovely table manners, though she did wonder if she would have done the same when Phryne and Janey were the same age, if they had been living this well. They were allowed a sandwich, a cake and a biscuit, Phryne said it was to ensure they would not spoil their dinner.

"They're not eating with us, surely?" Henry grumbled.

"The will eat earlier, in the kitchen," Phryne wiped some cream off William's nose, "Aunt Prudence is joining us."

"Oh, lovely," Margaret looked pleased, "isn't it, Henry?" she nudged her husband.

"Just grand."

Phryne noticed her father was not exactly the happiest of men this afternoon, he had barely said a word, except the one curt remark to Polly, which had annoyed her. Perhaps when she gave Bassie his next feed she could get her mother to join her and see what it was that was upsetting him, aside from the lack of cigars and that he had not been offered whisky. Her mother hadn't said there was anything bothering him, in her letters. Perhaps he had run out of 'pocket money'.

When the children had eaten their fill, Dot took them into the back parlour together with their new toys.

"Thank you, Dot," Phryne nodded, "when they have had dinner I shall bath William and Polly and you can get off to put Reggie to bed."

"Thank you, miss," Dot smiled, "their pyjamas are under their pillows."

"Lovely," Phryne smiled.

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The Baron and Baroness headed back to the hotel to change for dinner, and to let Phryne see to the children, though Margaret was determined to return early enough to see how her daughter coped with bathing two small children and putting them to bed. That would mean leaving Henry in the parlour with access to the whisky decanter, but she thought she could have a quiet word with the inestimable Mr Butler. Phryne was really lucky with her staff, to find someone like Mr Butler, she had been extremely lucky; and Dot, who was such a sweet girl.

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"Bit early to be gettin' ready, isn't it?" Henry grumbled.

"I want to see Phryne bathing the children," Margaret frowned, "I can't believe how easily she has taken to motherhood."

"Phht!" Henry blew out, "four! I sometimes think she has taken leave of her senses."

"Now Henry," she huffed, "I admire her, and she can afford it. I've never seen her so happy and at ease. The children are lovely, so well behaved, and remember, William and Jane are adopted, well Jane is her ward, it takes someone special to take on two children like that."

"Still, an' all" he muttered on, "how long will it last, this domesticity, before she gets bored, eh? Then what?"

"I doubt there is any chance of that," Margaret shrugged, "now, get changed, your dinner suit is ready for you, and I expect you to be on your best behaviour, especially in front of Prudence; don't drink too much."

"Margaret!" he snapped, "I am not a child to be disciplined ..."

"Stop behaving like a surly teenager, then," she straightened her shoulders and headed to have a quick bath and change into her evening gown.

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"Come on you two," Phryne let the water out of the bath tub and lifted each child out, wrapping them in warm soft towels, "then into the nursery and I'll read to you while I feed Bassie and you can snuggle down into bed.

Bath time had been full of laughter, bubbles had been piled on the children's heads and water had splashed over the side onto the thick mat. Usually Jack would arrive in time to read to them after their bath but he was running a little late. He hoped to make it, but would be back in time for dinner. William and Polly had been allowed to speak to him, over the phone, and made him promise to go and kiss them goodnight if he was too late to read to them.

Margaret arrived in time to help put the two older children to bed and had offered to read to them while Phryne sat in the nursing chair and fed Bassie. She had forgotten how her mother read stories when she was Polly's age and the children sat entranced as their grandmother put on silly voices for each of the characters in the Brer Rabbit story she read. When she had finished she tucked them up and kissed their foreheads.

"Good night, sweethearts," she murmured, "sleep tight."

William had only just been able to stay awake and was asleep before her lips left his forehead, Polly was nearly asleep but managed to wish her grandmother goodnight and mumble a second thank you for the doll.

She smiled and left them snug and warm.

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Phryne had slipped out of the nursery to change Bassie and settle him in his bassinet while her mother finished the story. She knew the children would be quite content with their grandmother and she needed to change for dinner. She would like to bathe too, but with time being short it would have to be a short bath or shower. She opted for the bath and tipped in a good quantity of jasmine bath crystals before dropping her clothes into the laundry basket and wrapping a robe round her. Dot had put out her underwear and the green velvet dress with the organza overlay. It was one of Jack's favourites, the one she had worn the night they had told Aunt Prudence they were married at Gretna Green and were already expecting Polly. It disguised her post pregnancy figure well, in fact she had even worn it when expecting Bassie.

"Phryne?" her mother's voice floated through, "can I come in?"

"I'm in the bath, mother!" she called back, cheerfully, "shan't be long."

"I'll wait, the babies are asleep," Margaret sat on the bed and fingered the embroidery on the organza.

"Oh, alright," in the bath Phryne wondered if her mother wanted to talk about her father, she certainly would like to find out if there was anything going on.

She finished the bath and dried off with a soft towel before donning the robe again and heading out into the bedroom.

"Mother," she nodded picking up her underwear and stepping behind the screen, so rarely used these days.

"Darling," Margaret smiled, "you really do look tremendously well."

"Thank you," the disembodied voice floated over, "I thought you looked in good health today."

"I am," Margaret agreed, "very well. It's your father I'm worried about."

"I did wonder, he was particularly grumpy today, and rather curt with Polly."

"Yes, I'm sorry about that, I don't know what's got into him lately."

"Still drinking?"

"Heavily, I told him to cut it down, but of course he ignores me."

Phryne rolled her stockings up and clipped them to the suspenders before lifting her silk slip, and dropping it over her head. She stood next to the bed and looked down at her mother, now with a worried frown on her face.

"I asked Mr Butler to keep the whisky out of the parlour, do you mind?" she continued.

"Not at all, help me with this dress will you, please?"

Margaret held the dress so it could be slipped over Phryne's head and fastened the clips for her, then held the organza 'coat' for her to slip into.

"Thank you, and the cigars?"

"Pardon?"

"Father's cigars, did you manage to drop them overboard?"

Margaret laughed, "sadly, no. But I have told him he is not to smoke them in your house."

"Good, Bassie makes enough smells without father adding to them," she huffed. "Seriously though, mother," she moved over to do her make-up and hair, "he's developing a drinker's nose, all red veins, and his hair is thinning."

"I've tried to get him to see a doctor, but he won't; claims he's fine and I am fussing."

"Does he still take that nerve tonic?"

"Nerve tonic, ha!" Margaret snorted, "I'm sure it's just his word for another drink, probably very strong alcohol."

"Right, well, I'll see if I can get Mac on the case. Can you get me some of the tonic, I'll have her analyse the contents?"

"I suppose so." Margaret thought, "perhaps if I come over to you tomorrow, on the pretence of a shopping trip - he won't want to join us - I could bring it then."

"Lovely. Oh," she looked round as the door opened, "Jack!" she held her arms out, "you're back."

"Sweetheart," he strode across the room and bent to kiss her, full on the lips, then stood up. "My apologies, good evening, Lady Margaret, how lovely to see you."

"Jack, dear," she accepted a kiss to the cheek and returned it, "it's lovely to be here, I must congratulate you on the birth of your son, he's lovely."

"Thank you, I'm sorry I wasn't here this afternoon, a case, you know."

"Anything I can help with, darling?" Phryne tipped her head and opened her eyes wide, giving that innocent look that nearly always got him into trouble of some kind.

"Not yet, Miss Fisher," he teased, "perhaps I can discuss it with you tomorrow."

"Alright," she smiled, now was not the time to delve deeply into some gruesome murder or audacious theft.

"I'll just change," Jack slipped off his jacket and tie, "then I'll join you downstairs. I take it the children are asleep?"

"Their Grandmother read to them and tucked them up tight."

"I hope they behaved," he smiled.

"They were little angels," Margaret laughed.

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In the parlour Prudence and Henry were sitting looking daggers at each other. Well, Prudence was, and Henry just glared back. Violet had greeted Prudence but on seeing the look Henry gave his sister in law had made her excuses and gone to help Mr Butler.

Mr Butler offered Mrs Stanley a sherry but, to Henry's surprise did not offer to refill his glass with whisky, and the first measure had been small. He looked in the glass then round the room to see if he could spy the decanter but it was nowhere to be seen so he placed his glass, noisily, on a side table and reached for the paper.

Prudence sipped her sherry and watched him. He was not the perky, devil may care man she was used to arguing with. He seemed sullen, his hair was thinner than she remembered, dull and flat, and his eyes no longer sparkled with his usual cheek. In one of her letters, Margaret had remarked she was worried about him but he refused to see a doctor. Perhaps Phryne could arrange for that doctor friend of hers to give him the once over. The door opened and she smiled at her sister and niece.

"Prudence, darling," Margaret went over to her, "how lovely to see you, you look wonderful!"

"So do you, dear," Prudence and Margaret kissed, "picture of health." She turned to Phryne, "and how are you, Phryne?"

"Marvellous Aunt P, absolutely marvellous," Phryne grinned.

"And our little man?" Prudence looked into the bundle Phryne had in her arms.

"Doing wonderfully," Phryne passed him over.

"I'm sure I see more of Jack than you, dear," Prudence stroked the top of his head.

"Oh definitely," Phryne laughed, "he's so much calmer than I am, a very easy baby."

"I still have to pinch myself, sometimes, to be sure I'm not dreaming," Mrs Stanley laughed.

"As do I," Margaret agreed.

"And you, Henry," Prudence decided to draw her, hitherto, silent brother in law into the conversation, "how do you feel now that Phryne had provided the family with an heir?"

"Huh," he grunted, "she'll soon get bored."

Phryne growled, "I'm not like you, father," she hissed, "and their father will not take a belt to them or lock them in a cupboard to break their spirit. We love our children, all of them."

"Henry!" Margaret snapped, "that was uncalled for!"

Jack chose that moment to join them for pre-dinner drinks and couldn't fail to notice the frosty air in the room. Phryne had tears in her eyes and Margaret and Prudence looked furiously at Henry.

'Oh dear', he thought, 'the Baron's put his foot in it, again.'

"Now then," he kissed Phryne on the cheek, "I hope you've all had a better day than me."

"Yes, yes we have, Jack, thank you," Prudence turned and smiled at him, "I had a letter from Guy and Isabella today, they are coming over for a visit next month."

"Ooh good," Phryne brightened immediately, Margaret stared at her, she knew Phryne regarded Isabella as a bit of, what she referred to as, an 'airhead'. "I must introduce them to William and Bassie."

"Well, there's still no sign of them producing a grandchild for me," Prudence huffed, "so, when they do come over you must bring the family, Phryne, show them the merits of children."

"I am determined to have them hold one of them," Phryne laughed, "Isabella always had her hands full last time, if you remember, Aunt P, and Guy seemed to think I had lost my mind."

"Perhaps they could be godparents," Margaret suggested.

"Actually, mother," Phryne took a drink off the tray Mr Butler had appeared carrying, "I was thinking of asking Jacob, for one of the godfathers and Emily Dunstan for his godmother, but I haven't thought of a second godfather yet."

"Oh," Margaret frowned, "Jacob?"

"Jacob Robertson, the boy who gave me Bodgy all those years ago. He owns a sheep farm over Jamieson way, now," Phryne smiled, "he and his wife have five children now, the last one only a year ago, a little girl they named Dorothy, I'm her godmother."

"Five!" spluttered Henry, "dear god!"

"Yes, three boys and two girls, the other girl is called Phryne." Phryne the elder laughed. "They are good kind people, who also took in two little boys that had lost their parents."

"They are strong and sensible," Jack added, "I think Jacob is a good choice and I'm sure we'll think of someone else."

Mr Butler entered the room and informed them that dinner was served.

"Lovely, thank you, Mr B," Phryne took Bassie from his great aunt and set him safely in the cradle, "where's Violet?"

"Mrs Robinson thought you might want some time with the Baron and Baroness, Miss, she insisted on helping me." Mr Butler smiled, he rather liked the Inspector's mother helping in the kitchen.

"Oh, right," Phryne pursed her lips, she supposed it was polite of Violet, "well that was very kind of her, she will join us, though, I hope."

"Yes, Miss, that is her intention."

"Good."

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With good food and wine in him, Henry began to be more like the man everybody remembered. He laughed and agreed with most of what was said, and flirted with Violet, which earned him a discreet, but noticeable frown from Mr Butler. Violet took it all in her stride but Phryne noticed that when Mr B took her mother in law's plate their hands touched, briefly. She had wondered, occasionally, but hadn't said anything to her husband. She wasn't sure how she felt about a relationship between her mother in law and a member of her household staff. Prudence would probably frown upon it, but she wasn't her aunt and everyone had the right to find love where they could, and how would Jack feel about it? Now was not the time to ponder such ideas, she reminded herself as Jack called her name.

"Daydreaming, Phryne?" he laughed.

"Sorry, miles away, tell you later," and so she set in motion the conversation she would have to have with him.

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Margaret and Henry took their leave when Phryne went upstairs to feed Bassie. It had been a most enjoyable evening, in the end, they told her.

"Why don't you come over tomorrow, mother," Phryne set the idea for some of her father's nerve tonic to be analysed, "I want to go and see if I can get some more suitable clothes for Bassie, and Jane is coming home from her trip to Sydney."

"What has she been doing there?" Margaret had wondered where the girl was, thinking she was busy with her friends, she was at that age, she supposed.

"She found out there were a series of science lectures and she and a couple of other girls and a teacher managed to get tickets. Mac said it was a good idea, given she wants to go into medicine."

"She is so lucky you took her in, dear," Margaret smiled, "so bright and strong. I bought her a book, I think I left it in the parlour, not medical but Ancient History, I hope she will like it."

Jane soaks up knowledge like a sponge, mother," Phryne laughed, "I'm sure she will love it."

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Bassie settled for, hopefully, the night, Jack and Phryne took the opportunity to cuddle and kiss and discuss the evening. They talked about her father, how he only came alive when he had been fed and watered. Phryne rolled her eyes.

"Darling," Jack nibbled her earlobe, "I don't know how to say this, but ... well ... I'd rather your father didn't flirt with my mother." There, it was out, he had noticed.

"Oh, you saw that," Phryne tipped her head to give him better access to her neck, "I don't think Mr B was too impressed either."

"Whenever she rings he is one of the first people she asks after," he smiled, "and they do spend a lot of time together, in the kitchen."

"Do you mind?"

"My mother knows her own mind," Jack shrugged, "I am not her father, Phryne, but if she should fall, I will be there to catch her."

"I don't think Mr B would hurt her, certainly not intentionally, and they are old enough to know what they are doing."

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Violet smiled as she turned out the light. Tobias had never touched her before, but the sly touch to her hand when Lord Fisher flirted with her had sent shivers down her spine. He was such a dear.


	27. Chapter 27

The phone disturbed Bassie before it shattered the quiet slumber of his parents. He wailed and sniffed before his mother decided to lift him out of his bassinet and offer him her breast. While not fully ready for Jack, she and her husband had entertained each other in other ways and finally drifted off to sleep in the wee small hours. The early morning cries of her son had cut through the vaguely immoral dreams she had.

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Mr Butler had a familiar knock and as he employed it she blinked and rubbed her eyes.

"Yes," she muttered, "Mr Butler, what is it?"

"Lady Dunstan on the phone, Miss," his voice floated through the keyhole, "shall I tell her you'll call back?"

"Please," she brightened, Emily Dunstan had kept in touch with her stories of the ranch and her relationship with Bill the manager, "tell her I'll ring her back as soon as Bassie is fed."

"Very well, Miss," she couldn't see the smile on his face. Mr Butler was not only fond of his employer he had a special place in his heart for her mother in law, too, and Violet was currently drinking tea in the kitchen having set her internal clock to his, so if Miss Fisher was going to ring Lady Dunstan back he had a precious few more minutes with her.

Phryne nudged Jack smiling as he grunted, "wha'?"

"Emily phoned, and," she whispered , "I think your mother is taking tea with Mr B."

Jack wearily turned his eyes to the clock, "urgh! half past six, already," he flopped onto the pillow, he needed more sleep before a heavy day at the office on a case that he was going to discuss with his wife - before they got distracted - the night before.

He gave her a brief run down as he dressed - a murder, victim unknown.

"The body was dredged up out of the bay, been dead a couple of days, Mac says, female," he tied his tie, "possibly drowned, other injuries from boats, she's not sure."

"Clothes?" she put the baby back in his bassinet, fed, winded and changed, "anything?"

"Drying off," he sat down to tie his shoe laces, "heavy wool skirt, same with the jacket, blouse, - 'serviceable' is how Mac described them."

"Why don't you send them over to me, or I could have Dot collect them," Phryne lay back against the pillows, "we could look them over, a woman's eye ...?"

"I might just do that," he sighed, "the constables are not easy examining ladies underclothes ... well, not all of them. Collins is the best ... but aren't you supposed to be shopping with your mother today?"

"Damn, you're right," she hissed, "no matter, send them anyway, Dot can start looking over them, Mother can play with the children, when we get back, I'm sure she'll like that."

"As will the children," he grinned, "now," he leant over and kissed her, "must be off, shall I ask Mr Butler to bring your breakfast up?"

"Please."

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Phryne hadn't said what time she should appear but Margaret remembered how children seem to have one up early. Henry was still asleep so she decided to have a bath, order some breakfast and prepare to shop with her daughter and grandson. Henry wasn't an early riser so she reckoned she had time to plan her morning but she had no idea what he would get up to. At home he would have wandered round the estate, perhaps gone out with a shooting party or fishing, here in Melbourne he would probably find a watering hole or a bookmakers.

She was dressed and had managed to sneak one of Henry's spare bottles of his 'tonic' into her handbag when there was a knock at the door. Phryne had sent a message that Messrs Yates and Johnson would collect her at nine. They would also take Henry to the golf club, where she had secured him a visitor's membership. The only worry Margaret had was the bar but perhaps Phryne had an idea for that, too.

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Phryne had had similar thoughts to her mother about the bar at the golf club so the red raggers were under strict instructions to haul him back to Wardlow for lunch and to collect his wife. While she waited for her mother and Violet took over feeding the older children Phryne phoned Emily Dunstan, briefly wondering if it would be unseemly to ask Bill to be Bassie's other godfather.

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Emily almost snatched to phone off its cradle. She'd been sitting in the study, going over the farm books while she waited for Phryne to return her call.

"Phryne, thank you for ringing back, I know you must be busy," she gasped, "and I'm sorry to bother you but I've had a letter from Edward's father."

"What does the old coot want?" Phryne sat on the bottom step of the stairs.

"He's coming to visit," Emily sighed, "I write, often, sign the letters from both of us; Edward knows what I say; but he refuses to move into the main house for the visit, a separate room, of course. I mean, Phryne how am I going to explain the lodge?"

"When's he due to arrive?" Phryne's mind was whirring.

"Three weeks time, well that's when he lands, then a week until he gets to us, Phryne, what do I do?"

"Any chance Edward will at least join you for dinner?"

"Little to none, we barely see each other these days," Emily sounded defeated, "he did make some remark about the amount of time I spend with Bill but when I quietly mentioned his lover's name he shut up. Anyway, Bill is the manager, stands to reason I see a lot of him," she huffed.

"Indeed, quite," Phryne mumbled, thoughtfully. "Well, I wouldn't say anything, make the old chap comfortable, take him round the ranch and see how it goes from there. Introduce him to Bill, you must do that, and I'll pop over, if you want me to, though I will probably have to bring the children ... Bassie ..."

"I would love you to come over," Emily sounded brighter, "and the children too, Mrs Stonehaven is always delighted to see the pictures you send. Bring Dot too, if you want."

"I may just do that, if you can stand to be invaded," Phryne laughed.

"Always, Phryne, always."

The logistics of taking everybody to Meredith would have to be dealt with another time, for now, shopping with Baroness Fisher.

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"I managed to sneak a bottle of your father's so called tonic," Margaret whispered, "are you sure Dr Macmillan will be able to work out what's in it?"

"As eggs is eggs, mother," Phryne grinned, "leave it with me and I shall invite her to dinner tonight, 'bout time she looked in on Bassie."

"Thank you, darling," her mother sighed, "for everything."

"No worries," Phryne slipped into the Collingwood lilt of her childhood. "Now, let's get this little man something other to wear than his baby gowns."

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They met so many people who wanted to admire the latest addition to the Fisher-Robinson that they only just made it back home before Bassie really started to complain his lunch was not forthcoming.

"Polly was the same," Phryne gasped as she lifted the grumpy baby out of the pram, "go on in mother, I shall have to see to his little lordship ..." she skipped up the backstairs, the nearest, and left her mother and Violet sorting out the parcels.

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The parcels sorted, Violet was truly touched by the gift of a lovely silk scarf Margaret had bought her.

"You do so much for them, and I know Phryne is very grateful, but so am I, Violet," she smiled, "I am so far away it helps me to know she has someone like you nearby, and the children, of course."

"Well, you know I am always happy to be of assistance, Margaret, we are family, and that means an awful lot."

"It does."

Their conversation was stopped by the sudden arrival of the Baron, escorted by the red raggers. They hadn't quite dragged him out of the golf club bar but it had been a near miss. Henry had played rather well, that morning, and his little wagers had resulted in a small amount of spare cash. Although he had tried, very hard, to spend it all on rounds for everybody in the bar Bert had, politely, reminded him he was due at his daughter's home for luncheon.

"Don't do to keep Miss Fisher waiting, Baron," he grunted round his cigarette, "or the Baroness."

"Hm, yes, s'ppose you're right," he grimaced, "do the children eat with us?"

"Sometimes," Bert grinned, "Miss Polly likes to think she is very grown up."

"Can't understand it," Henry muttered and shook his head.

Bert and Cec were very fond of Miss Polly and Young Master William and protective of them and Little Master Bassie, as they called them and no one, Baron or grandfather, was going to upset any of them, not in the raggers' presence.

"Come on, now," Bert took his elbow, "let's be off."

He was still grumbling when they arrived back at Wardlow.

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Phryne was in a mischievous mood at lunch. She had decided that if Polly wished to eat with them she could, so could William.

"Don't worry about Grandfather, chick," she patted her cheek, "you have beautiful table manners, so does William."

"Ooh, good," Miss Polly grinned, "I saw Mr Butler making chocolate strawberries!"

"You can have chocolate strawberries even if you don't sit down with the adults," Phryne laughed, "you know that."

All Mr Butler did was to dip fresh strawberries into melted dark chocolate but Miss Polly was particularly fond of them. She was sure the adults got the biggest strawberries, now was her chance to check out this suspicion. Little did she know but he always saved the biggest, juiciest strawberries for her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxMargaret praised her grandchildren on their manners, and laughed when Polly decided that she did get the biggest strawberries.

"Gran'mo," she whispered, "would you like this one, it's the biggest I've ever seen?!" her eyes wide.

"It certainly is huge, sweetie," Margaret smiled, "how about we share it?"

"Alright," she nodded, her curls and ribbons bounding, "d'you think it's big enough to share with William?"

"I rather think it is," her grandmother winked, "does he like them as much as you?"

Polly bounced in her seat with joy as Gran'mo carefully cut the fruit into equal parts, as equal as she could, that is, but both children were most satisfied.

Henry watched. To his knowledge his girls had never been spoiled like this but then, how often was he out of the pub or the bookies during meal-times? Perhaps she did. That said, he didn't think small children should dine with their parents and he harrumphed when William slid off his seat and went to his mother who wiped his mouth of the chocolate and sent him back to sit down.

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When Violet said she would put William down for his nap, after lunch, and then spend some time in the back parlour with the rest of the children Phryne saw it as a good excuse to have a look at the clothing Jack had sent over. Her mother was happy to spend time with Polly and Violet, and her father was escorted back to the hotel.

Dot had hung it to dry with paper underneath in case anything dropped off that may be of use in their determining the identity of the woman lying in the morgue.

The skirt, wool, as Jack had told her, was noted to be a dull green and homemade, there was no laundry mark or dressmaker's label to give an idea where the woman had come from. Dot praised the workmanship, saying it was likely made by someone who was either a professional seamstress or had much experience, a ladies maid perhaps.

Her blouse was cotton, not too fine and patterned with little printed leaves. Again home made. There were no bloodstains or tears from a knife or bullet, but then Jack would have said if she had been shot or stabbed. There were two buttons missing from the front, torn from their stitching, indicating a struggle, but that was all.

The jacket was torn around the pockets and the buttons had been ripped off. The shoes had, most likely been washed off by the water or not worn when she had ended up there. They turned to the undergarments.

Silk - the undergarments were silk. Phryne raised her eyebrows and lifted the cami-knickers up to the light.

"Very nice," she hummed, "expensive."

"Oh Miss," Dot whispered, "They're lovely, almost as good as yours."

"They are, aren't they? Yet her outer clothing ..."

"Not in the same league, handmade, nice cloth but nothing special ..."

"I wonder ..." Phryne set the cami-knickers down and thought, "d'ye suppose, Dot dear, that she was dressed after death?"

"To look like she was someone else?"

"An exchange?" Phryne looked at her companion, "oh, Dot, I don't like what I'm thinking - this is going to be hard to prove."

"What are you up to, Phryne?" Margaret pushed the door to the dining room open, "oh, no, detecting already? So soon after Sebastian?"

"Mother," Phryne huffed, exasperated, "I offered to help Jack, a dead body found floating in the bay, no identification, now, high end silk under-clothing under handmade skirt and blouse ... highly suspicious."

"So, you are thinking?"

"At the moment, an exchange, perhaps one less fortunate woman for another more ..."

"... wealthy?"

"Quite," Phryne snipped, "but how to prove it?"

"Isn't that Jack's province?" Margaret turned and headed into the kitchen to see if the red raggers were ready to return to the hotel.

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Dot continued to examine the clothing while her mistress saw her mother safely to the taxi. She was just folding the jacket up when something caught her eye, in the inside pocket of the jacket. At first it looked like a coin purse but on closer inspection Dot could see it was a calling card wallet. She got her sewing kit and carefully used a pair of tweezers to pull it out. Slowly she opened it up and pulled out a small piece of paper, slightly damp. She was carefully spreading it on the table when Phryne returned.

"What've you got there, Dot?" she leant over her companion's shoulder, "oh, how did we miss that?"

"Tucked in the jacket pocket, Miss," Dot paused, "in a little leather card wallet, so it's kept it nearly dry."

"Clever," she mused.

Dot hummed as she carefully prised the paper apart and spread it out gently on the table.

"Dot?" Phryne peered closer.

"Patience, Miss," Dot gave a little smile, "patience. The paper is fragile, we don't want to tear it."

"What's that?" Phryne pointed at a mark on the paper, "numbers?"

"Looks like it," Dot agreed and pulled her notebook over. "one, seven; seventeen... no, there's another number at the beginning ... two, I think ... yes, two, one, seven," she murmured, "sorry Miss, I can't read the rest, but it's in Melbourne."

"So who lives there, I wonder," Phryne mused.

Dot peered closer at the card, but it was indecipherable, the ink run off with the sea water.

"The thing is, Miss," Dot turned to look at her, "I mean, where does that get us?"

"First we need to find out which streets cover that many houses and then who lives there, then ask if they are missing someone," her mistress straightened her back, "now how do we find that out?"

"Telephone book?" Dot raised her eyebrows.

"Aha," Phryne confirmed, "I suppose I'd better let Jack know, hadn't I?"

"Well, Miss," Dot smiled, "it is his case, and he can get the junior constables to go through the book."

Phryne smiled, "good thinking, Dot, now I think I can hear Bassie ..."

"Shall I ring the Inspector, Miss?" Dot thought it was probably better that she wasn't gallivanting off to see about a missing person, Miss Fisher's cases were never that simple.

"Please," she grinned, leaving the room and heading to the parlour to lift her son from the cradle.

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Jack knocked on the door of a rather lovely house. It had taken four constables two days to go through the telephone books to find appropriate addresses that might, or might be the right one, and another day for them to canvas said owners. This was the last one. Everything about this house was 'right'. The door was cleanly painted and the windows shone. The gardens were neatly kept and the step and path had obviously been brushed that morning, for no overnight fallings of leaves or petals spoilt the line of perfect brickwork. The door was opened by a tallish tail-coated butler with an apparent bad smell under his nose. Jack had met his sort before, everyone was beneath him and woe betide anyone who decided they had the right to speak to his master or mistress.

"Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, City South Police, I would like to speak to the home owner, please," he held up his warrant card.

The butler looked him up and down and scrutinised his card before allowing him to step over the threshold. He instructed the Inspector to 'wait here' and seemed to fade away further into the house.

Jack took in his surroundings, nothing fussy, a couple of elegant vases on pretty tables, a painting, well executed but not to his taste and a grandfather clock with a sun and moon movement. The floor was polished marble and the staircase flowed in a curve from the first floor, above that Jack could not see.

"Mr Highsmith will see you, now, Inspector," the butler manifested by his side, "this way." His tone was imperious.

"Thank you," Jack followed him into the drawing room.

"Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, sir," he announced.

Mr Highsmith was sitting in a leather covered Queen Anne style chair. He appeared to be fairly tall and reasonably well built. His hair was grey, almost white, but thick and brushed back from his forehead, a little long, falling just over the edge of his collar. He wore a fine wool suit, dark blue, waistcoat and wing collared shirt. His eyes were blue, piercing, but there was a mischievous twinkle to them. He pushed himself upright and extended his hand.

"Inspector," he smiled, " what can I do for you, this fine afternoon?"

"Well, sir," Jack shook the hand and pulled a photograph from his pocket. Mac had had it taken for identification purposes, and though it did not show the woman in the best light she had ensured it was a sympathetic portrait, "we are looking into the death of a woman, pulled from the bay. At the moment we are trying to find out who she is, and, given all we have is a rather damp and hard to read calling card in a wallet, tucked in the inside pocket of the jacket she was wearing, we are having to canvas all houses with this number in their address. Please, accept my apologies for the state of the face but ..."

"You want to know if I am missing a member of my household?" Highsmith took the photograph and prepared himself for the image.

"Sir," Jack nodded.

"Hm, I can see why you are worried," he sighed, "I do know this person," he sat down, "it looks very much like my step daughter, Constance. She was supposed to be sailing back from Europe with her husband, Stephen Elder. We thought we might have heard from her by now, but, Inspector she is flighty and we did not approve of her choice of husband. Stephen is a spendthrift, and Constance had a substantial inheritance from her father."

While Jack was wondering why the man did not seem remotely saddened he still had to continue his questioning.

"Any idea why she would be wearing a hand-made skirt and blouse, instead of couture? My wife, a detective in her own right, has examined the clothing and said she was surprised that the under clothing on the body was silk and expensive but the outer wear was more befitting a ladies maid or companion."

"Ah, you're the chap that married that society woman, Miss Fisher, my wife reads the gossip columns," he smiled, "well, Robinson, Constance and her maid were similar looking and used to delight it swapping clothes. Very silly, we thought."

"The address was in a leather calling card wallet in the inside pocket of the jacket."

"Odd," he mused.

"Is there any other way we could discern if it is your step daughter or the companion?"

"Hm," Highsmith blinked, "well, Constance has a scar on her right ankle, from a fall. Very deep cut, glass went in just above the bone. So you are saying Elder has not reported his wife missing?"

"No, sir," Jack shook his head, "er ... your wife?"

"Lilly is in Daylesford, visiting her sister," he looked up, "look, can you make sure it's Constance before I talk to her, she's not due back until the end of the week." He ran his hand through his hair. "We aren't close to Connie, not since she insisted on marrying Elder, who she met in England. She barely knew him, a whirlwind romance, huh! what twaddle. I did some fishing, got contacts over there, but would she listen, pah!"

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Jack's next port of call was the shipping lines, to find a record of Mr and Mrs Stephen Elder and a companion, now known to be Elsie Herbert, sailing into Melbourne in the last month. But first, it was now around the time he would be reading a bedtime story to his children and, really, he muttered to himself, after trawling through telephone directories, the shipping line could wait until the cold light of day. And besides, he had to tell Phryne how much it had helped, her looking at the clothing.

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He heard the laughter of two women as he stepped over the threshold, Phryne, of course, and Dr Macmillan. Ah yes, she had said she had invited her, something to do with that so called tonic of her father's. At least he could ask Mac to look at the right ankle of the possible body of Constance Elder. Save him calling the following day. He pushed open the door.

"Evening ladies, and children," his eyebrows shot up. Polly and William were in their pyjamas and dressing gowns, fresh from their bath.

"Dada!" they cried, "Mummy said if we were good we could wait for you to read to us," Polly reached up for a hug.

"She did, did she?" he grinned, "well, up the stairs with you, then," he patted her head, "get into bed and I shall read a little for you."

"Yay!"

"Sorry, Jack," Phryne stood up and kissed him, "apparently we aren't good enough tonight," she waved her hand at Mac, "Polly missed you these past nights."

"Right, well, I shall be down presently."

"A whisky will be waiting for you, darling," she purred, never afraid to hide what she felt for her husband from Mac.

"Thanks, and I have news," he left her pouting.

Sounds like progress, at last," Mac sipped her drink.

"I do hope so," Phryne sighed, "I imagine someone is wondering where their daughter is, or wife, or lover or ..."

"... friend?"

"Mmm, that too," she mused, "someone must miss her."

"You'd hope so, wouldn't you?"

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But it wasn't what they'd hoped. Phryne and Mac were both disappointed at what Jack had found out, but Mac did say she would check the ankle first thing in the morning.

"Then I suppose we need to find Stephen Elder?" Phryne sighed.

"Well, the shipping line should be able to help," he pushed his empty plate away, "they should have a contact, in case they found some left luggage."

"But if he has done away with his wife, and put the maid in her place, how is he going to get hold of her money?" Phryne huffed, "I'm assuming that's what this is all about."

"Can't think of anything else," he shrugged.

"Well, let's turn to the other matter," Phryne picked up the bottle of her father's 'tonic', "what's in this, Mac? It smells 'medicinal'."

Dr Macmillan unstoppered the bottle and sniffed.

"Hm," she rolled her eyes upwards, "I would guess alcohol," she tipped a spot onto her finger, "orange oil ... the rest I will have to test for."

"Thanks, Mac," Phryne smiled, "mother doesn't think it's good for him."

"Probably doesn't do much for him either way," she nodded.

"I wonder where he gets it from," Phryne mused, "I suppose his doctor?"

"Some prescribe a tonic for the nerves," Mac agreed, "something to calm the patient, help them sleep - potassium bromide will do that."

"Bromide?" Jack scowled, "isn't that what they said was put in soldier's tea, to stop them becoming er ...?"

"Aroused?" Mac suggested, "sexually inflamed ..."

"Randy," Phryne laughed, "if they did, I don't think it worked, going by experience."

"I agree," Jack went red, "at least I didn't ..."

"Jack, darling," Phryne reached over and touched his arm, "do tell."

"Not now, Miss Fisher," he grunted but smiled.

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The shipping line was able to furnish City South Police with an address for Mr and Mrs Stephen Elder.

"We have tried to contact them," the clerk shuffled through some papers, "ah yes, here it is, there is a trunk awaiting collection."

"May we see it?" Jack asked wondering why it hadn't been either collected or sent for, this case got stranger.

"Don't see why not," the clerk shrugged, "it's not as if they are in a hurry to get it back."

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There was nothing odd or interesting about the outside of the trunk. It had the right name on it, and the destination - it was an ordinary trunk used on sea voyages by reasonably well off persons. Jack looked at the lock and for a few moments wished he had his wife's talent with a lock pick. He tugged the padlock and found it came undone. It would seem that when it had been pushed back the owner had not pushed it hard enough, well, in that case, he smirked...

The trunk contained a selection of ladies wear, for a ladies maid, that is. None of it was couture or high end pret a porter but all was well made and smart. Some had been made at home some had been bought at a dress shop, the underwear was not as expensive as that found on the body but was respectable, Jack thought. He thought back to Phryne's undergarments that he was in the habit of removing for her and decided that it definitely was not that of the wealthy Mrs Constance Elder. However, he could use it as a ruse to get into their house, perhaps Messrs Yates and Johnson could be called upon to deliver said trunk to the address, on behalf of the shipping line.

"This is evidence in a murder inquiry," he put his serious face on, as Phryne would say, "we shall need to take it, will that be a problem?"

"No, I doubt it," the clerk sighed, "if it hasn't been collected in the next two weeks we will send it to an op shop. If we kept every piece of unclaimed luggage we would need the rest of the docks. 'sides," he shrugged, "you are the police."

Jack instructed two of his constables to lift the trunk into the police car and he would take it round to the station and log it in the evidence book.

"We can either send for the Elders to come to the station or take it round to them," he looked at Hugh, "either way we shall get to the bottom of this before Phryne and Dot got swanning off to Meredith."

"Meredith, sir?" Hugh looked confused, "they're definitely going, Dottie said she might have to?"

"Lady Dunstan would like to see her and the children," Jack decided that he didn't need to know the full details, that was up to his wife.

"Not a case then, sir?"

"No, I believe lady Dunstan's father in law is visiting, he's an old friend of Phryne's."

"Right, well, that's ok I suppose." He pouted.

Jack patted him on the shoulder, it wasn't a case just a way to keep Emily Dunstan comfortable, given her unusual living arrangements.

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The trunk was heaved onto the table in the interview room and Jack and Hugh started to catalogue everything that was in it. It wasn't an awe-inspiring task, just a collection of blouses, skirts and dresses, plain nightdresses, rather ordinary shoes and underwear. A duster coat and hat and a serviceable robe completed the collection.

"Well," Jack scratched his head, "this looks like the maid's clothing, nothing to suggest Constance Elder. Good quality but not ..."

"... smart enough?" Hugh offered.

"Quite."

"So, what do we do with it?"

"We take it round to the house, or rather I was hoping the red raggers would pose as shipping line employees, and then we swoop in."

Hugh thought that sounded like one of Miss Fisher's ideas, but declined to comment - he was learning.

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The ruse worked. Jack couldn't believe how naive and gullible Stephen Elder could be. Cec and Bert arrived at the address and heaved the trunk out of the taxi then knocked on the door and waited. A maid answered, sweet and innocent, Bert felt sorry that he was about to put one over on her, as he noted later.

"Travelling trunk for Mrs Elder," he touched the peak of his cap, "shipping line sent in on."

"Oh right," she fluttered, "well, I suppose you'd better bring it in," she stood to one side.

"Thanks, miss," he smiled, "where do you want it? Too heavy for a sweet little lady as yourself."

She giggled, "oh, that is so kind of you, would you mind ... up the stairs."

"Miss," he touched his cap again and gave her a smile, "no worries."

"Wait!" a voice shouted from across the road, "police!"

The maid jumped and tried to shrink from view as Jack appeared on the doorstep.

"Sorry," he smiled, "Detective Inspector Robinson, City South," he showed his card, "is the master at home?"

"Oh," it seemed to be her stock answer, "he was, in the drawing room, with the missus." She bobbed a curtsey, "I er, I'd better announce you."

"If you wouldn't mind," he removed his hat. "Much obliged."

Jack watched her bustle away, sadly. She was obviously new to the post, possibly engaged because she was less than bright. Sad, he thought.

"Mr Elder will see you now, sir," she bobbed again.

"Thank you," he followed her through into the drawing room.

Stephen Elder was a slender, fair haired man, blue eyes and pale skin. Jack immediately thought a good wind would blow him over.

Jack advanced, hand outstretched, "Mr Elder, sorry to bother you," he smiled, though he wasn't, "we are looking into the death of a woman found in the bay, lately."

"Oh," he blanched.

"Yes," Jack continued, "she was carrying a calling card that indicated she was Mrs Constance Elder," a fib, it only had the address of her parents, "just wondering if you are missing a wife." His eyebrows lifted.

"I ... I think I would know if my wife was missing," he blustered.

"Quite," Jack fingered the brim of his hat, apparently embarrassed, "it's just that, well, you appreciate our dilemma..."

"Um yes, I suppose so, but," he drew himself up, "my wife is just talking to cook about the menus for the week."

"I would like a quick word with her, if you don't mind," Jack looked him in the eye, "just a couple of things to clear up, then we shall be on our way."

"Right, yes, of course," he muttered and rang the bell.

The timid little maid skittered through, "sir?"

"Find Mrs Elder and tell her the police want a word," he ordered. Jack thought he was a bit above himself. Phryne never spoke to servants like that, neither did Prudence from what he remembered.

She bobbed her little curtsey and skittered out again.

Constance Elder didn't like the idea of the police in the house and was unjustifiably cross with the maid. By the time she entered the drawing room she had composed herself and Jack saw quite a resemblance to the woman currently in the morgue.

"Ah, Mrs Elder," Jack held out his hand, "Detective Inspector Robinson, City South police, just wondered if you know this woman," he showed her the photograph and watched for a reaction.

"No, no of course I don't," she clutched the string of pearls round her neck, "what a dreadful thing to show me."

"Mmm... sorry, but time in the bay does that to a body," he sighed and tucked it away. The reaction was much what he expected.

"Who is she?" she asked, still flustered.

"We thought she was you," he fiddled with his hat and dropped it (on purpose) "oops, how careless of me, he bent down and let his eyes move to her right ankle - no scar. Her stockings were sheer enough to show a small mole on her shin and a scar would be quite visible, of that he was sure.

The red raggers had been hovering in the hallway, apparently waiting to let the maid know they had placed the trunk where she wanted but, in truth Jack had asked them to delay their departure and join them in the drawing room.

"Trunk's stowed, miss," Cec touched his cap.

"Trunk, what trunk?" Mrs Elder spun round.

"From the shipping office, m'm," Cec nodded, "can't stay there, clutters up the place."

"But we have all our luggage," she began to look worried, which had been Jack's hope all along.

"Definitely yours," Bert interrupted, "Elder?"

"Yes, but ..." she blanched.

"Something wrong, Miss Herbert?" Jack asked.

She spun round, "what?!"

"Elsie Herbert, yes?" he continued, "ladies maid and sometimes stand in for Constance Elder?"

"No, ridiculous," she turned to her 'husband' "Stephen, tell them," she urged.

"Er right, yes," he stuttered, going redder by the second, "this is Constance, my wife, Inspector."

"Sorry, Mr Elder, your wife is lying on a slab in the city mortuary," Jack tipped his head, "and we have reason to believe you and Miss Herbert, here, are responsible for her death."

"No!" Mr Elder screamed, "not true!"

"Shut up, Stephen," Miss Herbert hissed, "don't say anything."

"I would guess this is why you haven't contacted your in-laws," Jack eyed the panicking man, "because they would know in an instant that you had swapped places with Constance. Money?" he raised his eyebrows, "I believe Constance had a substantial inheritance from her natural father, and the only way to get your hands on it was to murder her and have Elsie here take her place. They were known for swapping places, to play jokes on family, I believe."

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"So that was what it was about, then," Phryne sat on the bed feeding Bassie, "money, greed?"

"So it appears," he nodded, "Stephen Elder was stepping out with Elsie originally but when he saw her and her mistress together he hatched this plan. Elsie thought it was a great idea, and as she had kept her courting from Constance it was easy to put into place."

"But why was Constance carrying her own calling cards in the maid's jacket pocket?" This had always puzzled Phryne.

"Elsie always had some, in case she had to send a message for her mistress," Jack shrugged, "she forgot they were in the pocket."

"So ..."

"They will both hang," Jack sighed, "the Highsmith's are understandably devastated, Constance's inheritance will go to a charity, Mrs Highsmith is on the board of one of the girl's schools."

Phryne thought he looked sad so, as Bassie had had his fill she handed him over to his father. It always made him smile.

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"So, I suppose you are going over to Meredith?" Jack brought the subject up at dinner, "is Mac alright with you travelling that far?"

He got a raised eyebrow for that then she smiled.

"Fine, if Cec and Bert do the driving and you come too," she waited.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, "I am due some leave, so why not?"

"Ha! Just because you want to drive the Hispano," she teased.

"Damn! Found out," he laughed. "Dot and Reggie will fit in the taxi, I suppose our three will fit in your car, won't they?"

"Polly and William have their own seats now, I just need to see if the bassinet will slot in between them."

"Tight fit?"

"Probably, me and Mr Butler will have a try tomorrow, then in a couple of days we'll head off. Does that give you time to sort out a stand in?"

"Should do, I'll speak to the Commissioner."

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Mr Butler took the bassinet out to the car with Violet. Phryne had received a phone call from Dr Macmillan about her father's 'tonic' and was currently listening wide eyed to Mac's description of the ingredients.

"Ordinarily, I wouldn't worry too much about the bromide and pilocarpine," she was saying, "but the addition of opium makes it highly addictive. Whoever is prescribing this is a quack, and probably an expensive one."

"Damn! What do we do now?" Phryne ran her hands through her hair, wondering how to tell her mother Henry was an opium addict.

"I'm going to suggest I make up a similar solution with less opium, gradually reducing it to nothing. If we go without straight away he'll have all sorts of problems, and your mother will come off worst."

"You'd do that for him?"

"No, I'll do it for you and your mother," Mac assured her, "now, I know you are off to Meredith day after tomorrow, so I'll make up enough to last him until he leaves Australia, and give them to your mother."

"And when he goes home?"

"I'll give her the recipe and tell her to see that his doctor makes it up, or hers, whichever is the more trustworthy." Mac felt this was their only option but if his doctor had been in Melbourne she would have had him struck off.

"He and mother are staying with Aunt P until I get back."

"Not taking them to see Lord Dunstan senior, then?"

"God no!" Phryne gasped, "they'll go over trying to marry me to Edward, and too much will come out. We need to soften the blow for the old man, though I have a feeling he has an idea. Rather perceptive is the old coot."


	28. Chapter 28

It was a tight squeeze, but with the bassinet end on it sat snuggly between Polly and William's seats. It would be a long journey for the children so they arranged to stop for a picnic lunch and allow the toddlers to have a run round and burn off some excess energy.

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With all the luggage stowed between both cars they set off just after Bassie had been fed, in the hope they could get a good distance before they had to stop.

As Phryne had suspected it wasn't the best of journeys but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Neither of the Robinson children liked being cooped up in the car for such a long time so they ended up taking an extra break for them to stretch their legs when Bassie decided he was hungry. With Phryne taking over the driving for a time they arrived in good time, Cec and Bert managing to keep up, in spite of Mrs Collins' pleas to take it easy, they knew where they were going. Reggie squealed with delight when they picked up speed to keep the Hispano in sight, Dot could only sigh and shake her head, Mr Butler patted her hand and smiled.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxEmily had set up rooms for the Fisher-Robinson party, one for all the children, one for the Inspector and his wife and the same side room Dot had used on their first visit three years ago. The red raggers would sleep in the same place, the staff quarters, and she had found a nice room for Mr Butler, but they wouldn't be required to go out looking for Edward ... or so she thought.

Two days before Phryne arrived Emily had tried again to get her husband to at least agree to join them for dinner, certainly when his father arrived, but he steadfastly refused. His lover, Angelo, would not be welcome so he was blowed if he would set foot in the house.

"Nothing you can do, Em," Bill mused one evening, "he'll have to speak to his father at some time, the truth will out. I feel sorry for the old fella, to find out his son is a fairy."

"He need never know if only Edward would come over for dinner ..." she sighed, "though I don't like deceiving my father in law, he has never been anything less than kind to me."

"He'd find out, one way or t'other," Bill put his arm round her, "hold your head up high, girl, you are worth a hundred of him, and look how well the place is doing, better than ever. His Lordship should be right proud of you."

"Thanks, Bill, but I couldn't do it without you and intend for that to be perfectly clear. If he is to find out about Edward's proclivities then I am not going to hide our sleeping arrangements ... but I'm not going to advertise them either."

While there had been a little mumbling when Bill moved into his end of the main house, some supposition and sideways glances the truth didn't appear to have hit the social and business circles Emily moved in. Word had spread that young Lord Edward Dunstan was not in the best of health, subject to extreme bouts of melancholia and no mention was made of the number of times Bill escorted Lady Dunstan to meetings, dances and dinners. In the beginning Edward had accompanied her but had either got drunk and fallen asleep or staggered home before her. At first it had been embarrassing and the sympathy wearing but as his appearances became fewer and Bill took over it all seemed to become quite normal. Mrs Stonehaven was the only one who really knew that Miss Emily didn't always sleep in her own bed, in fact it was rather rare. She made no mention of it, carried on as if it was perfectly ordinary, was just glad that the young mistress was happy. From the beginning when she had worked out what kind of a man the master was she had ignored him for the most part, which was alright by him, she scared him anyway. Something about the way she wielded a rolling pin ...

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Emily welcomed Phryne with open arms and a huge smile.

"It's so good to see you, you look absolutely wonderful!" she exclaimed, "and this is Polly," she looked down at the little girl with the dark curls, "she is so like you."

"Let me introduce you," Phryne grinned, "Polly, come and say hello to Miss Emily, and you William," she called her children over, "Jack would you lift Bassie out, please?"

Introductions were made, luggage taken to the appropriate rooms and Mrs Stonehaven took the children into the kitchen to give them milk and biscuits. Mr Butler joined her and together they set up trays of tea and coffee, cakes and scones.

"I hope I'm not treading on your toes, Mrs Stonehaven," he smiled, "I'm afraid I'm rather used to my own kitchen."

"Always glad of a helping hand, Mr Butler," she smiled, "Miss Emily has become quite the hand in the kitchen but I can't expect her to cook and host at the same time, can I?"

"Then consider me at your disposal, madam," he nodded, "now, shall I take these through?"

They settled into an easy working relationship though Mr Butler did miss Violet. She said she would go home and see if her daughter and other grandchildren needed her and see to her own little house. As they had parted she had slipped him a piece of paper ... with her phone number written on it.

"Call me when you want to talk, or you are back in town, Tobias," she murmured, astounded at her audacity, "if you want."

Out of sight of the household in the kitchen they had kissed softly a promise of things to come, perhaps.

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Over dinner, after settling the children down and promising Polly she could see the horses the next day, they talked about how well the farm was doing, how, for the most part, Edward was no trouble.

"He keeps very much to himself," Emily shrugged, "we have a young girl clean for him, and sometimes cook. She's local but couldn't find a position due to being almost completely deaf, poor thing. She does her chores and he leaves her wages in an envelope on the mantelpiece once a week, it works for both of them. He is sure that she won't gossip, but they are rarely in the lodge at the same time."

"So, what does he do with himself?" Phryne asked, "surely he needs some form of occupation?"

"We think he may be writing," Emily smiled, "heaven knows what, but it keeps him busy. Connie, his cleaner, has intimated she finds papers and writings in the living room and he has a little desk to sit at. I hope he has found some kind of peace, really, I don't wish him ill, just wish he hadn't agreed to marry."

"If he hadn't we would never have met," Bill muttered, "and, well ..." he suddenly realised it might be more than he should be saying.

She smiled and squeezed his hand.

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The following morning, after everyone had breakfasted, the children were allowed to play on the verandah before Phryne agreed to take Polly to see the horses.

"She can sit on this one, her name is Sage, she's one of the oldest here and very gentle," Bill led a chestnut mare out.

Polly allowed him to lift her onto the horse's back while her mother held the lead rein, it was possibly the first time the child had been stuck for words.

"Hold tight with your knees Miss Polly," he smiled, "and hold this bit of her mane, then ..." he nodded and Phryne led the horse round the stable yard while he walked slowly beside them ready to catch Polly, should she slip. When Jack brought William round to find out where Mumma was the little boy wriggled in his arms.

"Horsey, Willum ride horsey!" he squealed.

"Pop him up behind Miss Polly," Bill laughed, "I'll hold him."

Jack watched and smiled. William's legs stuck out at right-angles to his hips, he looked like a cartoon. Jack sidled up to his wife and fell into step.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he murmured into her ear, "she'll want a pony, like she wanted a dog after going to Jacob's."

"Mmm," she agreed quietly, "but we have even less space for a horse, I suppose I could rent out a stable and hire a groom."

"Don't, " he warned, "I'd rather get her a dog."

"You can make that bargain with her, then," she smiled, "I always wanted both, as a child - but we always want what we can't have, don't we?"

"Not always," he slipped his hand round her waist, "sometimes we just have to be patient."

"Like you," she leant her head on his shoulder, which he shrugged.

"Perhaps, but I don't think we should give in to her demands, or she will be spoiled."

"For once I agree with you, Jack," she sighed, "I want her to learn the value in everything she has."

"Well, at least we are on the same page."

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Two days later Lord Dunstan, Edward's father arrived. He was much as Phryne remembered him. He embraced his daughter in law and shook hands with Bill who Emily introduced as her right hand man. He was delighted to see Phryne, and congratulated her, rather belatedly, on her marriage and family.

"I'm glad Emily has you somewhere near," he confided in her over tea, "I'm sure my son is completely useless. Sometimes I worry that sending them so far away was the wrong thing to do, but the letters I get indicate the farm is doing well and was a worthwhile investment. That said, where is my son?" he turned to Emily, "where's Edward, dear girl? I thought he might at least be here to greet me. Not riding out over the land is he?"

Phryne spluttered into her cup and Emily blanched. Fortunately Mrs Stonehaven, Dot and Mr Butler had taken the children into the kitchen for a mid afternoon snack and left the adults to talk.

"I doubt it, Lord Dunstan," Emily bit her lip, "Edward doesn't ride."

"Hasn't he learned, good lord, how does he manage?"

Emily stood up and went to stand by his chair, "Edward takes no interest in running the farm, sir," she squatted down in front of him and took his hand in hers, "I run the farm with Bill ..."

"Very good at it, too, your Lordship," Bill stood also, ready to defend her, "it's down to her that the profits have increased over the past few years, and she is well respected round the town."

"So where is he?" Lord Dunstan was beginning to wonder if they had done away with his son ...

"He should be in the lodge, sir," Bill held out his hand to Emily to help her stand.

"Edward doesn't live in the house, he resides in the lodge." Emily jutted her chin out defiantly.

"Look, Emily," her father in law sighed, "I know Edward probably isn't the best husband, and if he leaves you to run the farm who am I to complain if it works, but ... the lodge?"

"Perhaps tomorrow we can go and see him," Emily suggested, "he refused to come up for dinner tonight ... I'm sorry, that's just how it is with us, Edward is not ... well ... marriage doesn't suit him."

He looked from Bill to Emily and then back again and it was beginning to come clear to him that this was a marriage in name only but Emily had found a happiness. She certainly looked better than she did when he waved her off five years previously.

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Over dinner, thankfully the children had been fed and put to bed separately, they discussed how the farm ran, but hardly referred to Edward. To distract him from the situation Phryne told him some of her life since she had returned to Melbourne. He really had been fond of her but when his wife and her mother were trying to engineer a marriage between their respective offspring he could see it would never work, she was far too high spirited for Edward.

"And so you married this fine upstanding police officer, Phryne," he raised his glass at them, "good for you. We need some different blood in the system, strengthen some of the lines. How do your parents feel about it?"

"Fine," she smiled, "mother likes Jack and I think father is a little scared of him, being an officer of the law an' all that. They're over at the moment, to see our son, mainly, but also to see how Polly has grown."

"Not staying here, though?"

"No, we left them with mother's sister," she shook her head, "there's only so much a daughter can take." She laughed.

"Hm," he mused, "still up to his old tricks then?"

"Some," she admitted, it wasn't as if it was a secret.

"And you, Jack," he turned to the Inspector, "how do you find it, having her investigating with you?"

"She's been very helpful," Jack smiled, "but dangerous - mainly to herself. Been in a few tight spots, both of us but that's the nature of the business."

"Dangerous times, eh? Could get worse, with the situation in Europe ..."

"Doesn't look good in China, either," Jack noted.

"So much for the 'War to end all Wars'," Phryne huffed.

"At least neither of you will serve, this time," Lord Dunstan said, "reserved occupation for you, Jack and you, Phryne?" he raised his eyebrows.

"I will find something to do, though," Phryne insisted, "there is always something important to be done ... hospitals, convalescent homes ... "

Jack thought that was a bit mild for her, but said nothing. If she stuck to that he would be happy and the children would be cared for, but doubted she would. She would find something to do that would be more dangerous as well as getting involved in his cases.

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Bill wasn't sure if Emily would join him that night, with her father in law being in the house, so he was not a little surprised when his bedroom door opened and she slipped in.

"I thought," he whispered, lifting the covers to let her in the bed, "that with his Lordship in the house ..."

"I'm not hiding anything, Bill," she cuddled close, "he'll find out what Edward is really like, tomorrow."

"What do you think his reaction will be?"

"Hide the horsewhips?" she shrugged, "I don't know, but I didn't come here to talk about my husband or my father in law ..." her hand strayed down his chest.

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The morning was filled with children squealing and toddling round the kitchen and hall. Dot had taken a tray of tea up to Inspector and Mrs Robinson and when Bassie had been fed taken him to be bathed and dressed. The sun was shining and it looked like it was going to be a lovely day.

Polly, William and Reggie were being given breakfast in the kitchen by Mrs Stonehaven, who was having the time of her life and Mr Butler had taken over making breakfast for the rest of the household.

"I want to see the horses again," Polly stated quite firmly.

"We shall have to see what your mother is doing Miss," Mr Butler politely told her, "until then I'm sure we can find something to keep you three busy."

"How about helping me bake?" Mrs Stonehaven wiped William's mouth of his porridge, "biscuits and bread, eh?"

"I should warn you, Mrs Stonehaven," Mr Butler hummed, "that can get messy."

"It's a kitchen, we can clean up together after," she nodded firmly.

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Phryne and Jack appeared in the kitchen after breakfast to kiss and hug their children.

"Now, my darlings," she sat beside Polly and began to tell them they were busy with Miss Emily that morning, but yes, Polly could go to the horses later. As she stood up there was a commotion outside the door and a young girl came rushing in, waving her hands and shouting something unintelligible.

Mrs Stonehaven caught her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye then held up one hand, "Stop, Connie," she commanded, and though the girl couldn't hear her she did.

"This is Connie, Mrs Robinson," she introduced her, "she does for the master."

"Emily did say," Phryne crouched down in front of the obviously distraught girl, "what is wrong?" she enunciated slowly.

"Here, she can write," Mrs Stonehaven put a sheet of paper on the table and a pencil.

What Connie wrote was poorly spelt and the letters were badly formed but Mrs Stonehaven was used to it and translated.

"Master gone, no money; he leaves her pay on the mantle-piece; bed tidy."

"So, she cleans and tidies each morning," Phryne stood up and wandered around the kitchen thinking, "cooks?"

"Sometimes," the housekeeper agreed and turned Connie to her, "food?" she mouthed.

Connie shook her head, and wrote, "not eaten."

"So," Jack joined in, "sometime between yesterday morning and this, Edward and his friend have disappeared."

"Probably skulking in town," Phryne offered, "have Cec and Bert breakfasted?"

"Earlier," Mr Butler agreed.

"Could you ask them to go into town and see if they can find them," she headed for the door, "puzzle for mumma and dada, children, be good."

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Emily was already in the study, going over the day's activities with Bill, as she always did. She looked up when Phryne rushed in, without knocking.

As they were formulating a plan to find the errant lord, Lord Dunstan, senior, entered, having been politely informed that everyone was in the study, and his son had disappeared, by Mr Butler.

"Emily?" he crossed the room to her, "what's going on?"

"I don't know," she sighed, "Bert and Cec have gone into town to see if he is there, and check the station, we are going down to the lodge to see what we can discern."

"I'll come with you, I need to have a word with my son."

"Sir," Jack stopped him, hand on his arm, "perhaps it would be better if you didn't. We don't know what we will see."

"He maybe a bloody arse, but he's my son!" he growled back.

"Right," Jack sighed, "well, no time to waste, he may be in trouble or hurt ..." he didn't want to add he may be dead. He'd been a police officer for long enough to know it was always a possibility when dealing with a missing person.

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The lodge was, presumably, as Connie had left it the previous morning. Phryne was impressed at her cleaning, the place was spotless. There was a cold cut of ham left in the meat safe, tomatoes and cold boiled potatoes in the small refrigerator, all ready to be eaten, or reheated as Edward desired. She headed up the stairs to see if there was anything in the bedroom that would give an indication of the whereabouts of the missing heir. She opened drawers to find everything as it should be, the bed had not been slept in, the pyjamas had not been worn.

"Phryne?" Edward's father came up the stairs, "anything?"

"Nothing that indicates he was planning on leaving," she turned and sighed, "Sorry."

"This is where he sleeps?"

"Ah ha," she nodded.

"Alone?"

"Er," she wasn't sure how to tell him, which she found curious, she never usually shied away from telling someone the facts, though she could usually couch it in gentle terms.

"No," Emily came up behind him, "no, he doesn't sleep alone, he has a lover."

Lord Dunstan turned and stared at her.

"His name is Angelo, and Edward prefers him to me." She stood strong and straight and defiant, arms folded.

For what seemed like an eternity there was a silence as he processed this then he stepped forward and took her hand, looking deep into her eyes, "Oh Emily, I am so sorry, I had no idea. I knew he was a drunk, but I never thought ... so your marriage..?"

"In name only, there will be no heir by him," she was firm, " he finds the whole act revolting."

Phryne cleared her throat, glad that at least Lord Dunstan seemed to have taken the news of his son's sexuality fairly well, though what would happen when he saw him was hard to guess.

"We do need to find him," she murmured, "to be sure he is alright."

As they headed downstairs Lord Dunstan was already formulating his plan. When he had bought the farm he had kept it in his name, to be passed on the Edward when he died, the first thing he needed to do was to find a solicitor and shock the establishment. He was very fond of Emily, always had been, and even at the time of the wedding had been unsure if it was the right thing for her. But her parents were happy and almost insistent while his wife, Lady Sarah Dunstan was beside herself with joy at the prospect of grandparent-hood and the continuation of the Dunstan line. Now, that was not going to happen. Lady Sarah had been unable to travel with him due to their daughter being about to give birth, but as soon as she was able she would follow him. He wondered if he should put her off, she was going to be extremely disappointed in her son, of that he was absolutely sure. She had no time for men like that - none at all.

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"I suggest," Emily stood with her hands on her hips, which Bill knew indicated she meant business, "I suggest we mount up and take a farm hand each with us and ride over the land. He has to be somewhere, unless your men have found him in town Phryne."

"There's been no word, yet," Phryne stepped forward, "Mr Butler has been listening out for the phone, so I agree with Emily, but ..." she looked round, "I think we should have something to eat first, and hope the raggers turn up with news. If he is in town, they will bring him back, whether he likes it or not."

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They didn't have long to wait, though Phryne did pace up and down the parlour while the others stood, or sat, around drinking tea and coffee and eating sandwiches and cakes. Though it had been her idea to wait Jack was not surprised that she was unable to wait calmly. She was as impatient as ever. As soon as she heard the taxi draw up she was out of the parlour and on the verandah before Cec or Bert had left their seats.

"Nothing, Miss," Bert sighed, knowing her question before she asked it. "Nobody's seen hair nor hide of Lord Edward. He's well known in the town, him and his, er ... yeah well, everybody knows him and they tend to avoid him."

"Right," she turned back into the house, "food in the parlour, boys, then we are going riding."

"Riding?" Bert's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, "sorry Miss, me and horses don't get along."

"Alright, Bert, you can search on foot, close to the house, you and Cec."

Suitably supplied with water the riders paired off and struck out in all directions.

Emily and Bill headed towards the creek. It needed checking and had been on the list of things to do that day, so, as Emily reminded everyone the farm still had to be run, they would check the creek and ride round to the lodge from there, the rest of the hands could check the fences as they went round.

Phryne and her escort searched near the lodge, she couldn't go too far as Bassie would need her at some point but there were plenty of places to hide, or to hide a body, in the vicinity.

They had dismounted and tied the horses to a tree while they advanced on foot into a small copse. There was evidence of someone passing through, at least. Cigarette butts ground into the soil, footprints and a small piece of cotton fabric impaled on a broken branch. Phryne lifted it off by the corner and examined it further. If she was not mistaken it was part of a man's shirt and there seemed to be small speck of blood and she wondered. She closed her eyes and imagined one of the men pushed up against the tree while the other was on his knees, giving him pleasure. She pursed her lips, put the fabric in her breeches pocket and continued on.

They came upon a small clearing. Examining the ground they found square dips forming a triangular shape as if something had been standing on three legs. They both squatted down to look more closely, flicked dead leaves away to look for even the tiniest idea of what went on here.

"Miss," the farmhand pointed, "what's this?" It was a blob of green, that was the only way it could be described, she reached over and lightly touched it with her forefinger.

"Paint," she mused, "does Lord Edward's friend paint?"

"No idea, Miss, not for me to notice."

"This could be where an easel stood," she ignored his comment, "but it's not the best picture, really. Some trees, fallen leaves and branches, not even streaks of sunlight coming through, leastways not today. There are more paint splashes over here." She walked carefully around the site.

They walked further into the trees, noting snapped branches and more footsteps. There was another clearing that also may have been used as a painting spot.

"Whatever pictures he paints aren't exactly light," Phryne hummed, "dark and moody, for a guess."

Her guide was getting bored, the idea that someone painted pictures in such a gloomy spot didn't enthuse him to art, he looked around at head height, ignoring her musing.

"Miss," he touched her shoulder, something had caught his eye in the trees, "up there," he pointed a little to the right where a large tree stood.

In the branches something hung down, she moved closer to get a better look and gasped - it was an arm. She moved round the tree to the other side and found what she wished she hadn't. Edward's half-dressed body was draped over the solid branch, he looked like a rag doll and Phryne surmised his back was likely broken. She eyed the tree and tracked a way to climb it, not something she had done for many a year. Quickly clambering high enough to see that Edward was dead and take in how he may have died she called down to her companion to go and alert the rest of the search party.

"Blow your whistle three times and wait for one of the others," she climbed back down again smiling at his wide eyed look. She supposed he didn't see many women climbing trees and certainly not the wives of Detective Inspectors. "Go on, I'll be fine." She chivvied him along mindful that when others arrived, hopefully Jack, she would have to head back to the house and feed her son.

As she watched him run off she wondered where the other half of the couple was - Angelo - heaven only knew where Edward had picked up such an exotically named lover - on the way over, perhaps when they took a stop-over. Gibraltar? People boarded and disembarked there.

While she waited she wondered how Edward had ended up in a tree, she was sure he wasn't the type to climb trees, and certainly not while he was half dressed. Was it Angelo that had taken him up there? Had they decided to try some unorthodox 'making out'? She took a further look at the body, how it was dressed. The shirt was gone, and nowhere to be seen. She assumed he wore a jacket and waistcoat before he had climbed the tree but that was missing too. She looked down his hips and over his crotch. The waistband of his trousers was fastened but the fly was not, or not completely and there was a small stain thereupon. She'd never thought of having Jack up a tree, though they hadn't necessarily kept to the marital bed, certainly not in the first months of their relationship and marriage - the kitchen table at midnight, his car on a stakeout; that was dangerous; the potting shed at her aunt's house; Prudence would be scandalised; his office ... she tried not to think of some of the places but there was definitely no tree in the list, and she wasn't of a mind to add it.

"Phryne?" Emily's voice had her spin round, "we've followed the creek ..."

"Emily, oh, er ..." she tried not to let her eyes drift upwards but failed. Bill saw it first and turned Emily to face him.

"What, oh my god!" she put her hand to her mouth, "how ...?"

Phryne stepped over to her, "Sorry, Emily, that you had to see that," she stroked her back, "take her back to the house, Bill."

"No, no," she pulled away from Bill, "I'll stay. It's ok, Phryne, Bill, it's over, the charade. I need to know how he died and where is Angelo? If this was an accident ..."

"Under the circumstances I'm not surprised he's gone," Phryne folded her arms, "but how did Edward get up a tree, I can't see him climbing it voluntarily?"

"What did they do out here?" Emily asked, then coloured remembering that time, and subsequent times, out by the creek, "stupid question," she added.

"Well, I have noticed marks in the ground that suggest an easel, spots of paint in the ground," Phryne decided not to go down the road Emily was suggesting.

"So you think they painted?" Emily looked round her, "can't have been very bright pictures, it's somewhat gloomy round here."

"I think the word is 'atmospheric'," Jack's voice floated through the trees, "but, yes I agree."

"Hello, Jack," Phryne grinned, "since when did you become an art critic?"

"Ha ha," he kissed her cheek, "hadn't you be better getting back to fortify our son?"

"Probably," she agreed, pouting, "but before I go, check the ground, there are lots of prints, feet, easels; possibly; spots of paint, oils and acrylics are the only ones that would stay here."

"Thanks, now," he watched her leave and turned to the men gathered round, "we need to get him down, without causing anymore damage to the body or the tree."

After much deliberation it was decided that two strong men would climb the tree armed with canvas slings they usually used to lift cattle from the creek. They would swing the body out and slowly lower him to the ground.

"Then how do we get him to the house?" Bill scratched his head, "I assume that's where he's going."

"Maybe the lodge?" Jack thought, "there are children in the house, but yes, Bill, we do need some form of transport, stretcher, cart.

"Hay cart!" the lad that had been with Phryne suddenly piped up, "we could lower him onto it and take him wherever you want him to go."

"There's no hospital in town, is there?" Jack asked, they needed an autopsy and the local police.

"Nah," the lad shook his head, "Doc Prewit is all we have, Ballarat's the nearest."

"Damn!" Jack muttered, "right, get the hay cart, take him to the lodge, we need ice to keep the body cool and I'll get back to the house and put a call in. What's the local copper called?"

"Sergeant Greaves," Bill sighed, "ok for local disputes, pub fights and such like, but I don't think he's ever encountered a suspicious death."

"I'm out of my jurisdiction here," Jack shoved his hands in his pockets as if to make sure he wasn't 'interfering', "but I could call the deputy commissioner, see if I can get an order."

Everyone went in different directions to carry out their tasks. Jack stayed behind to look for any evidence at all. Phryne appeared to have catalogued everything when she reeled it off to him, there was no indication that anyone had dragged Edward up the tree, just marks where he had climbed, scrapes on the branches, bits of bark broken off, he could have just slipped, but somehow, he doubted it. If he had then Angelo would have gone for help, wouldn't he? How well did Emily or Bill know Edward's lover?

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On her way back to the house, Phryne encountered Lord Dunstan. She told him, as gently as she could, that Edward had died, but they didn't know how. She didn't tell him he was half naked in the branches of a tree, or that there were indications that art work had been going on.

"Come back up to the house with me," she reached up to touch his hand, "let's leave Jack and Bill to it. We'll arrange an autopsy, I'll see if my friend Dr Macmillan can do it."

He slipped down off his horse and they walked slowly up to the main house.

"Phryne," he kept looking ahead, "this chap, Bill?"

"Yes, what about him," god, was she going to have to protect Emily's honour.

"He and Emily, they seem closer than a mistress and farm manager should be."

"Do you mind?" She took one of the reins, "he's a thoroughly decent man, Bill, strong and kind, a hard worker, Emily would have not managed without him, not on her own."

"I don't know, I don't think so," he carried on, measured steps carrying him just ahead of her, "Edward is a disappointment to me. After last night I knew this was Emily's place, and that I would put in the works to make sure that after my death she would still have this, if she wants it. Now I am sure what I must do. I will pass the deeds to her now, she can do with it what she will. I had already set up a trust fund for any children she would have with Edward, but I think I will re-word it and have the fund go to any children she has, with Bill, if that's what they want. I want her to be happy, Phryne, she deserves that, after being railroaded into the most unsuitable marriage."

"But her parents didn't dispute it, did they?"

"No, they wanted it, alliance to a wealthy family, no thought of what Emily wanted." He stopped and turned. "When our daughter got married we let her make her own choice, as you did. Laura has married a fine upstanding man, well thought of in his field; he's a surgeon; wealthy enough to keep her comfortable and they are very much in love."

"I don't really remember Laura," Phryne smiled, "she is quite a bit younger than Edward?"

"Yes, she would have still been at school when Sarah and your mother tried to get you and he affianced."

"Hm," Phryne pursed her lips.

As they approached the house they could just hear the cries of Robinson Junior, demanding to know where his dinner was. Phryne smiled and handed the reins back to Lord Dunstan.

"Best go," she laughed, "he'll get colic if he has to wait too long."

"You're a very lucky girl, Phryne, don't ever forget that."

She patted his hand and headed quickly into the house.

Dot appeared at the doorway, cradling the screaming baby. She sighed when she saw his mother skipping up the steps.

"Sorry Dot," she smiled and took her son, "can you call Mac and ask her to come up, we need an autopsy. We found Edward," she lowered her voice, "semi naked and draped over the branch of a tree. The men are taking him down."

Dot's eyebrows hit her hairline and she gasped. Phryne headed to her room, unfastening her riding jacket and sighing. She thought he was ready, even away in the copse she had felt the familiar dampness on her shirt.

As she fed Bassie she wondered about the way Edward had died and Lord Dunstan's idea to make the farm Emily's. She had thought he would be horrified, angry even disgusted at her obvious involvement with the farm manager, instead he was remarkably sanguine about the whole thing. Perhaps things would work out alright for everyone, everyone but Edward. She sighed and stroked her son's soft hair.

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Jack huffed when she told him Dr Macmillan was on her way, but it was a good natured huff. Privately he had thought of asking Mac to do an autopsy, possibly in the living room of a small lodge was a bit of a stretch, but he knew Mac well enough to feel she was up for the job.

"I'm hoping it was an accident, Phryne," he reached over and placed his hand round Bassie's head, feeling the soft, still downy hair, "it's a bit extreme to be a murder."

"True," she let the baby slip off her nipple and passed him to his father to be winded, "but if it was an accident why did Angelo disappear?"

"You don't think...?"

"Jack!" she shrieked, "there is a child in the room!"

He raised an eyebrow, "seriously, possible? Up a tree?"

"Not something I'm willing to try," she smirked, "I'll ruin my stockings. No, Jack," she took on a serious tone, "there is not a chance. Edward and the outdoors did not mix at all. He could just about stroll in the gardens of a stately home, but this is close to roughing it. Emily said he couldn't ride, and I didn't think he knew one end of a cow from the other. Thing is, he wasn't even one you could have a decent, educated conversation with, didn't read, thought Shakespeare was a bore ..."

"So ..."

"A complete waste of the air he breathed." It didn't please her to say this, but all Edward ever did was drink and whine. "His father is going to deed the farm to Emily and settle the trust fund he had arranged for Edward's children on any she and Bill have. He's worked out they are more than mistress and servant."

"So ..." he sounded like a scratched record.

"Bill is the son he would have liked."

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Back in Melbourne, Mac sighed and arranged to leave her duties at the Women's Hospital for a couple of days. She then headed back to her little flat and packed a few essentials and her mortuary tools. Only Phryne could go and visit a friend and get caught up in a murder!

She would arrive late evening and be told the story of how they found Edward then, survey the body, before deciding if the autopsy could wait until morning. She had no idea where they were keeping it, but hoped they were keeping him chilled.

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Edward's body was wrapped in sheets and packed in as much ice as they could get from the house. Jack had catalogued the scratches on the body, the long diagonal and deep graze going from his shoulder down his back to the opposite hip. He supposed he had slid down the main trunk to land on the branch they had found him on. He made a note to go back out to the site the following morning and inspect higher up the tree, and round the base. Perhaps the branch he had climbed up to had given way and he had slid down to his death. He too noticed what his wife had and wondered ... it seemed a rather precarious position to be in. He thought of Phryne and inhaled deeply, to keep himself under control. He agreed with her that up a tree would at the very least ruin her stockings and possibly cause both of them serious injury, not to mention where the splinters might end up!

Until Mac arrived and did the autopsy there was little more he could do except expand the search for Angelo and see if there were any paintings that would give clues as to what happened in the copse.


	29. Chapter 29

We are coming to the end of this saga, for two reasons, one is I think it has run its course and two I am having difficulty coming up with story lines. I will still be writing but I have some work obligations that are stretching my time. Thank you to all that have continued to read this story and review, you make the writing worth the while.

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Mac pulled up at the house after a dusty drive that had her forgo lunch, not even a sandwich from the hospital canteen to keep her going. She had noticed the lodge on the way up the drive and possibly the copse Edward had been found in. But for now she had to announce her presence and hopefully drain a large pot of tea. She tooted the horn to alert them of her arrival and was pleased to see it was Phryne that greeted her.

"Mac, you are an angel," she wrapped her arms round her, "come on in and I'll introduce you to Emily, and Lord Dunstan."

"How are they bearing up?" Mac straightened her jacket, "they must be shocked."

"Very, but I think," Phryne whispered, "Emily is relieved. Edward wasn't happy with his place here or his place in the world. He was a sad creature, Mac, and part of me feels very sorry for him."

"Right ..." she followed Phryne into the house and thus began the investigation.

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They spent dinner talking about anything but Edward as the children were eating with them. Phryne had a sudden blast of guilt as she realised she hadn't followed through on her promise to let Polly ride the horses again.

"Mr Butler took me, mumma," she proudly stated, "he rided the horsey and held me _and_ William on Sage. Mumma, did you know Mr Butler can ride a horse?"

"No, darling, I didn't," Phryne raised an eyebrow, "he kept it a secret from me." Even now, after these past years, Mr Butler still had it in him to surprise his mistress. She mused that if he wanted to court her mother in law neither she nor Jack were likely to object - he may have some rather deadly tricks up his sleeve not yet revealed to his mistress or master. Jack decided his mother was in safe hands.

Once the children had been put to bed the adults convened in the parlour and looked at the evidence they had.

Phryne went first, detailing all she had found in the copse, even going so far as to demonstrate Edward's position in the tree over the arm of a chair. She made it look much more elegant, Jack thought, as he helped her up.

"Well," Mac at back and thought, "if he actually fell from any height and landed that way I expect significant damage to his spine."

"There's a diagonal graze down his back, shoulder to hip," Jack added, "that may indicate he slid down the trunk."

"Possible ..."

"What I want to know," interjected Emily, "is where is Angelo? He hasn't been seen in town, and he isn't in the lodge."

"We also need to find his artworks," Jack put in, "it may show whether or not he used Edward as a model. I'm thinking some kind of dark picture of death ..." he scratched his head, "maybe representing ... oh...!" he threw his hands in the air, "I don't know, I'm not one for making wild theories."

"No, darling," Phryne purred and touched his arm, "you leave that to me. But, I think I know what you mean."

He nodded his head and turned to Lord Dunstan, "I'm sorry, this must be very painful for you, you don't have to be here for this."

"No, er yes, it is painful," his Lordship sighed, "but I want to know what you think, I won't disregard any idea. I want the truth of my son's death, so I can tell his mother in a way that she will understand. If that's at all possible."

"Tomorrow, I want a thorough search of the copse, the lodge and any other places you can think of that Angelo may be hiding," Jack said, "I have spoken to the Commissioner and he is happy to let me lead the investigation as is Sergeant Greaves. He's going to ask around the town and see if anyone has seen Angelo, or if anyone knows anything about his painting. We will have to assume that is what he did in the copse, unless anyone has any other bright ideas?"

Heads were shaken and lips pursed but nobody could come up with any more ideas.

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The following morning, Mac was taken to the makeshift morgue to do the autopsy.

"Go on and investigate," she shooed the red raggers away, "I'll let you know if I find anything in due course. Send Phryne to me later, about lunchtime."

"Right ho," Bert waved, "got to go into town, to see Greaves, d'ye want anything?"

Mac pondered this offer for a moment then shook her head, she had brought all she would need. The only problem she would have would be if she found evidence of something other than a fall. If so she would have to take tissue samples back to Melbourne.

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Greaves, who had the appearance of a gnarled old tree, grumbled about toffs getting themselves murdered in quiet little towns. He reluctantly showed the raggers a painting he had found at the station, waiting to be shipped to Melbourne.

"Station master said he dropped it off yesterday, the dago that was staying up at the ranch." He sneered. "Seems he did that a lot."

"Ta, mate," Bert grunted, "the Inspector will want to see this." He turned it round in his hands, not sure which way up it was supposed to be.

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"Phryne?" Jack passed the canvas to her, "any ideas?"

"Poor attempt, it doesn't seem to fit into any particular style, it lacks perspective and proportion, and even cubism has some proportion," she looked at Jack and realised he was rather out of his depth. "He seems to have tried another take on the Crucifixion, using a tree as the cross and Edward as Christ, but, all in all, if he has a buyer ... well I wouldn't want it."

"I'll ask Collins to go round to the address on the wrapping, looks like a private address not a gallery."

"Shall I do that?" she asked, "I'll phone Hugh and ask him to look into it, shall I?"

Please, I'm going out to the scene," he nodded and kissed her cheek before heading out of the house.

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Hugh, deep down, wasn't surprised that Mrs Robinson had found a murder to investigate. He duly noted the address and promised to find out as much as he could in as short a time as possible.

"Thank you, Hugh," she grinned, "Dot and Reggie send their love."

"Give them mine, Miss," he sighed, "tell them I miss them."

"Will do," her voice was bright a cheerful in spite of what she had found.

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Armed with a description of the painting, which sounded very odd to Hugh, and the address he told the other sergeant he was going out to follow up some inquiries for the Inspector.

"I shouldn't be too long," he pulled the strap of his helmet under his chin and set off.

The house that matched the address was in an area of Melbourne that was renowned for its odd residents. Most claimed to be artists of one sort or another, painters, potters or printers. He stood outside a door that was painted with geometric shapes in a variety of colours; to the young officer it just looked like Reggie had got hold of the paint set and had a fine time with Miss Polly.

He knocked and stood back to wait.

The door was opened by an eager young man in worn at the knee trousers of an indeterminate colour, over which was a smock splattered with various colours and had a tear over the right side, about waist level. He wore a pretentious beret at an angle and a floppy bow at his neck. To Hugh Collins, who only saw paintings at Miss Fisher's house, he looked like a caricature of an artist, from a child's picture book.

"Oh," the 'artist' sighed, "I was expectin' someone else."

"Post, maybe," the ever helpful Hugh raised an eyebrow, "waiting for a painting?"

"Er, yes," he tucked the paintbrush he was holding behind his left ear, "due in on the early train. 's for an exhibition."

"Would it be a picture of a man hanging from a tree, a bit like the crucifixion?"

"Well, that was the subject, so I suppose so," he hummed, "why?"

"Is the artist a chap named 'Angelo'?" Hugh continued his questioning, "staying in Meredith?"

"Look here," he frowned, "what's all this about? Where is the painting?"

"Actually, I'm trying to locate the artist, the painting is at the Dunstan Ranch in Meredith."

"All we do is send him the canvas and keep him stocked up with paints, he only gets paid if the painting sells, so far nothing, but, between you and me, he's not very good." He lowered his voice to a whisper, as if Angelo could hear him.

"Right, do you have a last name for him?"

"Angelo is all he goes by, makes him seem more 'artistic' or so he thinks. What's he done?"

"Disappeared from the scene of a murder, well a possible murder. Bloke found hanging over a tree branch, dead, but no sign of Angelo. The dead man is Lord Edward Dunstan - heard of him?"

"Yeah, he poses for Angelo, not afraid to strip down, if you know what I mean?"

Hugh got the picture, and thanked the man for his time, saying if he had any more questions he would be back. From the relaxed attitude he decided that there was nothing suspicious going on there. He asked if there was any place Angelo was likely to run to , or someplace he would hide if he was in trouble or afraid.

The artist shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

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"Thanks for that, Hugh," Phryne took the phone from Mrs Stonehaven, "so we don't know where Angelo is likely to have high tailed off to, but he hasn't been seen in town or at the station so the only place he could be would be somewhere on the ranch."

"I'm sure you'll find him, Miss," Hugh replied encouragingly, "places like that have plenty of hiding spots, caves, lay over shacks ..."

"Well, the Inspector, Cec and Bert are out searching as are as many of the hands as Emily can spare. He's here somewhere."

"Well if there's anything else I can do ..."

"Not at the moment, but thank you, I'll put in a good word with Jack for you."

In the station Hugh smiled and said good bye.

"Bye," she put the receiver down and pursed her lips in thought.

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Jack and two of the ranch hands were checking all the trees in the copse for signs of scraped bark where someone had climbed up, broken branches and torn clothing. So far three or four of the biggest trees had evidence of footholds, missing pieces of bark and bent or snapped small branches. There was a button nestling in the crook of two branches, probably from a jacket or waistcoat and a handkerchief caught on a bit of leaf stalk.

"It's pretty obvious that they are using the trees for something," he pushed his hands into his pockets, "whether it is as studies for paintings or fooling around I don't know, and without Angelo we won't find out."

He had climbed further up the tree Edward had been found in and discovered branches quite high up that had been snapped off, the ends coated with dried blood - not much, but enough to suspect foul play or that Edward had fallen from quite a height before landing on the branch that held him. But, did he fall or was he pushed?

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In the lodge, while Mac worked in the small living area, Emily and Dot were going over the bedroom and bathroom area with a fine toothed comb. They searched through all the drawers, under the bed, stripped it and looked under the mattress. In the wardrobe they found expensive suits and beautifully pressed shirts.

"I must congratulate Connie," Dot smiled, "she really is an excellent housekeeper. What will happen to her now? Now your husband is ... and I suppose you aren't going to let his friend stay?"

"Mrs Stonehaven can always do with a hand in the kitchen and around the house," Emily smiled, "I shan't get rid of her, she's a hard worker and she feels safe here, I am sure."

"Well, I can't see anything here that tells us any more than what we already know," Dot huffed, "shall we try downstairs, if we can get round the doctor."

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Mac was almost finished, she was about to close up the body when they entered the living area.

"Five minutes, ladies," she lifted the sheet to hide the open chest, "please."

"Ok," Emily shrugged, "we shall try the log store then." She took Dot's hand and pulled her out of the front door.

"Are you alright with that?" Dot tossed her head in the direction of the doctor.

"It's what she's supposed to do, and I do help with butchering the livestock," Emily shrugged and they headed to the log store, which was as far as they needed to go.

Emily pulled open the door and was nearly knocked off her feet by someone barrelling out from behind the neatly stacked wood. As he ran past Dot stuck her foot out and when he fell promptly sat on him. A string of what sounded like expletives rang through the air, they were not English so both ladies could only assume he was swearing.

"Angelo!" Emily shouted, "we wondered where you had got to."

He was little more than a boy, Dot thought, slender and pretty, with large brown eyes and wild curly hair, her first thought was that he needed a good meal and a cuddle. Then she came back round to the fact he was wanted in a murder investigation.

They hauled him up to the house wriggling and squirming, squealing and whining but he was no match for the two ladies.

"Miss! Miss Fisher!" Dot called, "we've found him, Angelo!"

Phryne practically skidded round the corner, which was not one of her best ideas given she had Bassie in her arms.

"Dot! Emily! how?"

"Hiding in the log store," Emily grinned, "he ran, Dot tripped him up and sat on him," she was breathing heavily, more from excitement than exertion.

"Well done, Dot," Phryne grinned, "bring him into the parlour and let's have a chat, shall we?"

Angelo sat with a mutinous expression on his face and his arms folded but deep down he knew the jig was up. Still he wasn't going to give up easily.

Mac chose that moment to bring her findings to the house. She had finished her autopsy and found that Lord Edward had broken his spine in a fall. That, however, was not the cause of his death ...

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"Hello, Mac," Phryne looked up, "got some news for us?"

"I have," she looked around and glared at the insignificant yet significant little being in the chair. "you are Lord Edward's lover?"

He gulped, something about the red haired woman, dressed in men's clothing scared him.

"You know," she sighed, "if you had gone for help instead of hiding out Edward would have survived, maybe even walked again." She turned to Phryne, "the damage to his spine was not fatal, it would have affected his mobility in some way, but not, with help, left him unable to walk. He would have needed some nursing and therapy but in time ..."

"So ..."

"He was left to die, Mrs Robinson," Mac folded her arms, "and that is reprehensible, the act of a coward."

Angelo started to cry then rock in the chair. Phryne shook her head and for a few moments pitied the poor child, for that was what he was - a child.

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"Now, let's start at the beginning," Jack sat behind the study desk, notebook in hand, poised to take his usual precise notes, "Name?"

"Angelo," the boy sniffed.

"Just Angelo?"

He shook his head, "Angelo Smith," he muttered.

Jack didn't so much as blink when he heard the incongruity of the name.

"Place of birth?"

"Italy."

"Right, now, how did you come to know the deceased?"

Angelo, reluctantly, told how he was wandering the streets in Gibraltar when the ship carrying the Dunstans to their new life in Australia, docked. He had struck up a conversation with Edward who suggested he take a berth on the ship, he paid, and come to paint on the ranch. He admitted Emily knew nothing about this arrangement until the night she had discovered them in the lodge. He had kept out of the way of the upper levels on the ships during the voyage, but Edward had visited him in his cabin when Emily was with Mrs Robinson or Mrs Charlesworth.

They had arranged that Angelo would not travel with the Dunstans, but wait behind at the docks. Edward gave him enough money for a small hotel until such time as he could send for him.

For the past five years the arrangement had worked well. They had found places to set up the easel and Angelo would paint Edward in various states of dress and situations, and then send the paintings to their contact in Melbourne to be sold and exhibited. He admitted that up to now no one had bought anything on his but he hoped that in time some forward thinking art lover would see his talent.

Up to this point Phryne had sat quietly watching and listening. She sidled up to Jack and put her hand on his shoulder, subtly asking to join in.

"Angelo," she purred, knowing it would have no effect on the boy, "what were you doing in Gibraltar? You're not from there are you?"

He shook his head, "I was thrown out of the house, in England, by my father. It didn't set much store with artists, said I needed to get a proper job, join the army or something. I ran away."

"How old are you, Angelo?"

"Twenty two," he sniffed.

"So, you were seventeen when you met Edward, very young."

He had no answer for that but she was right. Edward had seen a pretty boy and though he could use him, in many ways, he would be malleable, easy to bend to his ways.

"You might have been better heading to Italy, to study art," she continued, "not allow yourself to be used as some play thing, because that's what he did, isn't it?" She leant down on the table and stared at him, "so what happened in the trees?"

"We had been there often, it was good place to paint, and er ..." he blushed, "anyway, I was painting the background, finishing off the tree and Edward was in the upper most part, holding on to the branches, twisted round when he slipped. He landed on the branch and went all quiet and still. I couldn't reach him and I thought he was dead ..."

"... so you ran."

"I didn't know what to do, I thought if I could get away then I would be able to find my way to Melbourne and the artists, nobody would know, 'cos nobody knew we went there." He started crying, again.

Phryne stood up, "he's right. If Edward's father hadn't come then Emily wouldn't have missed him because she rarely saw him. But, because his Lordship was here and wanted to see his son ..."

"Is that why you were looking for him?" Angelo lifted his tear-stained face, "he said his father would cut him off without a shilling if he found out."

"Yes, he would, but he wouldn't have wished him dead."

"What happens now?"

"You will be taken to Melbourne and charged, not with murder, because it was an accident, but there will be a charge, nevertheless," Jack leant forward, "probably manslaughter or conspiracy to conceal a death." He closed his notebook.

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Bert drove Jack and Angelo back to Melbourne, promising to return the following day. Emily insisted Mac stay over at least that night, "it's the least I can offer, doctor," she smiled, "you came all the way over here to work in less than suitable conditions, it was extremely kind of you."

Mac shrugged, she felt that Emily needed the privacy of the ranch rather than the hustle and bustle of the city and it was an easy autopsy.

"I do have to get back tomorrow, though," she smiled her acceptance, "patients, you know."

"Of course, they are lucky ones, to have you as a doctor."

"That's kind of you to say so," Mac accepted the compliment, "I wish some of the male doctors were as generous."

Emily rolled her eyes and left her to talk to Phryne, and she had to organise a funeral for her husband.

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"Do you think it's wrong, Bill?" Emily curled into his side as they lay on the blanket at their favourite spot by the creek, "that I'm not weeping and sobbing my way round the house?"

"We all cope in our own ways, love," he kissed the top of her head and drew lazy circles or her bare back.

When everyone had gone to bed that night she had said she needed to be out of the house, just for an hour or two. He had understood and they had ridden out to the creek. They had made love under the stars, swum naked in the creek and made love again.

Neither wanted to mention that she was now free, out of a marriage that gave her nothing except misery, now they could be together, properly, but Bill didn't know if she wanted that and she was almost afraid to bring the subject up. Perhaps it would be best if she waited until after the funeral, leave it a couple of months. Getting married, or even engaged so soon after being widowed would be unseemly and would send the gossip-mongers into overdrive.

"Let's get the funeral over with, and the ranch sorted out," he murmured.

"Not much to sort out," she lifted her head, "my father in law is passing the deeds to me, directly. He was going to see the solicitor tomorrow, change his original instructions, after he found out what kind of man Edward was."

"Oh," he mused on what this meant, "but you would have had them when he died, wouldn't you?"

"Lord Dunstan kept it in his name in case Edward ran it into the ground, then he would be able to make arrangements, add further funding if necessary, but he has seen how it runs and wants me to have total control, with your help, of course. You will stay, won't you?" She suddenly thought he would find it hard to have her as the owner of the farm, when he thought it was owned by Edward ... his thoughts were somewhat confused on the subject, but ...

"You've always had control, Em," he smiled, "I want to stay ... with you."

"Oh ... oh, yes, of course, I want you to be here, always, Bill. You know how I feel about you."

"But you are a landowner, now," he reminded her.

"I'm still Emily," she murmured in his ear, "and you are still Bill, my Bill," she let her hand slowly move down to find him hard and ready for her, again. "We need to leave a little time, for propriety's sake," she nibbled his ear lobe, "but we don't have to change who we are, to each other, do we?"

He rolled her over and slipped his hand between her legs causing her to gasp and rise to him. Then he proceeded to move down her body, kissing and sucking, taking each breast in turn and marking it with his beard, leaving marks wherever he could and then down to take her over the edge with his tongue. As she came down from that he grinned and kissed her again, leaving an impressive mark on her hip, then dipping his tongue into her belly button before working his way back up to her mouth.

"Bill," she sighed, feeling his tip at her entrance, "oh, Bill, please." Over the years they had been this to each other she had found herself able to have multiple orgasms and Bill was only too willing to help her achieve this. He grinned and pushed into her filling her then withdrawing almost completely, watching her pout and then they set up a rhythm until she called his name and tightened around him, and he spilled into her.

"God Emily," he gasped, "you'll be the death of me."

"What a way to go, Bill," she smiled, "I do love you."

"There's no one for me, but you, girl," he kissed the end of her nose, "but I think we'd better go in, before the sun rises."

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Phryne and Jack stayed until after the funeral, watching all the people that knew Emily come and offer their condolences. She looked small, in her black dress and hat, Bill hanging back just far enough for propriety, making sure his mistress was coping, but not apparently at her side. One or two landowners wanted to know what she would be doing with the ranch now, even though they knew she ran it, but all the same, wondering if it was now hers of reverted to her husband's family, after all, women didn't usually run their own businesses, did they?

Emily knew these men had had their eyes on the Dunstan Ranch, even more now it was particularly profitable, but she assured them she had no intention of leaving.

"I shall continue to run things as I always have," she smiled, thinking how insensitive they were to bring up such a thing at a funeral, but not wanting them to know she was mistress in her own right, now, of the ranch.

"Give you a good price," one said, looming over her, though he could think of another way he could get his hand on the land.

"Lady Dunstan is not thinking of that just now," Phryne had overheard, "she has just lost her husband."

He looked at this stylish woman who deigned to intrude on his conversation. Another woman thinking she knew about business.

"You are?" he smirked, thinking some rather sordid thoughts about her, as well.

"Oh, my friend, the Honourable Phryne Robinson," Emily turned and smiled, "wife of Detective Inspector Robinson of the Victorian Constabulary. Phryne this is Gabriel Michaelson, one of our neighbours."

"Mr Michaelson," Phryne purred and offered her hand, "how kind of you to come."

"Mrs Robinson," he bowed politely over her hand. As he left she turned to Emily and whispered in her ear.

"I think he's after the ranch, Emily," she hissed, "watch him. Now you are single again, there are other ways than buying, if you know what I mean."

"Not a chance, Phryne," Emily answered softly, "we're keeping the place, me and Bill."

"Good, does Bill know?" she winked.

"Silly," Emily teased, "but we need to wait, at least six months, it wouldn't do to ..."

"Quite." Phryne felt happy that Emily, in spite of everything was going to be alright. She had spent some time with Edward's father during the funeral and helped him with his dilemma of how to tell his wife their son was dead and their daughter in law keeping the ranch with no thought of returning to England.

"Thing is, Phryne," he confided, "she's on her way here, and I can't tell her in a telegram, can I? That would be cruel."

"It's still going to be cruel, whichever way you look at it. Will you tell her about his proclivities?"

"I don't think so, I think I may just tell her the marriage wasn't going well but Emily was making the best of it," he sighed, "it's mostly true, anyway."

"I think you're right, she doesn't need to know about Angelo, perhaps that it was an accident while out surveying the copse, it's only a little fib."

"We made a mess of things, me and Sarah," he bit his lip, "making them marry."

"If her parents had no objection you can't blame yourselves. Emily is going to write to them, they wouldn't have been able to get here in time for the funeral, anyway, and tell them she has been widowed."

"Will she tell them about Edward?"

"Well, she said to me, this morning, that if they hadn't arranged the marriage she wouldn't have met Bill and that is one thing she doesn't regret, in no way."

"I'm glad some good came out of it," he smiled, genuinely pleased for her, "Bill is a good man, and if she hadn't married Edward who knows who else her parents might have found for her. There wasn't a lot to choose from that year."

"I was heading back to Melbourne then," Phryne thought back over the past years, "after taking father back to mother, I wasn't looking and I was already, er ... involved, with Jack ... though I'm sure mother never gave up hope of me marrying some lord."

"I think you chose well, Phryne, m'dear," he patted her hand, "Jack is a thoroughly decent man and strong."

"Thank you, I think so too, but my opinion is biased," she laughed quietly, " and my mother and father are happy that I have given them the grandchildren they never thought they would have."

As the guests slowly departed, again passing on their condolences to Emily, Lord Dunstan watched. He noticed the neighbouring landowners fawning over her and pulled Bill aside.

"Thompson, a word," they headed into the study.

"Right," Lord Dunstan folded his arms as faced Bill square on. Bill knew that despite his stance this was not a fight, this was his way of protecting Emily. "She's special, as I am sure you are aware, ten times the man my son was ... if you get my meaning?"

"I do," Bill agreed.

"I don't trust some of the neighbours, this is good land and she and you have made it even better. You make sure she's safe, she doesn't need protecting but I have concerns there may be some pressure put on her to ally herself to one of them so they can gain control."

"Nobody going to control this land but her, Sir," Bill understood quite clearly what Michaelson and his ilk were like and how they viewed Emily as prey. "I'm not going anywhere, this will always be our home, mine and Emily's."

"Good man," Dunstan nodded, "I know you two are close, probably closer than you should be, but I can't blame you, and I don't. My wife is already on her way here and I will bring her out to the ranch to see where Edward lived, and died, but not for a while. When I do I do not want to sordid details of his life to reach her ears. He died in an accident surveying the copse."

"I see no reason for her to be told anything else, Sir," Bill agreed.

"Let the men know, please, I don't want one of them to let it slip, either."

"No worries."

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"You will call if you need anything, won't you?" Phryne hugged her friend.

"You will be the first to know," Emily smiled, "thank you for all you've done."

Lord Dunstan had left the day before, travelling by train to Melbourne to wait for his wife. He had asked if he could call on Phryne and the Inspector and had been told he should come to dinner one night and also bring Lady Sarah when she arrived. Mr Butler had taken the same train in order to prepare the house for the family on their return.

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Wardlow was bright and welcoming. Mr Butler had thought of everything, fresh flowers in the hall, dinner cooking in the kitchen, not a speck of dust anywhere, it was all perfect.

The raggers took Dot and Reggie home and Phryne took Bassie upstairs to be fed and settled. Jack ran the bath for Polly and within a few hours all was as usual in the Robinson household.

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Over the next month or so, they had visits from Lord and Lady Dunstan, for dinner and afternoon tea. Lord Dunstan took his wife to Meredith to see where her son had lived and died. Lady Sarah got to know Bill, Emily explained that Edward did not enjoy married life and they had lived separate lives so she had run the ranch and intended to continue doing so.

"You won't return to England?" Lady Sarah sipped her tea.

"No, all I want, all I need is here," Emily smiled, "I have made a life for myself here."

"I see," she hummed, noncommittally.

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Phryne waved her parents off on the ship home. Bassie had been baptised the Sunday before after which there was a celebration attended by all their friends including Emily and Bill and the Dunstans. Phryne thought it would give them a more pleasant memory of their visit to Australia.

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"Happy?" Jack nibbled her earlobe.

"Well," she teased, "there is one thing that you could do for me, you know, as Mac has said ..."


	30. Chapter 30

_A short epilogue that I finally came up with. Thank you, all of you that have stayed with me through this alternative journey through the lives of John (call me Jack, everybody does) Robinson and Miss (call me Phryne, although hardly anybody does) Fisher._

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Phryne and Jack managed to weather the storm of the Depression. With Phryne's judicious investments of her legacy it hit her less hard than some and she was able to give back to those less fortunate.

Prudence rattled around in her large home but was unable to sell it and move to somewhere more suitable to her needs. She closed up the parts she didn't use and more than once wondered what would happen to it when she died. It was to go to her son, Guy, but he had no intentions of returning to Australia, his life was with his small family in London and he rarely visited. Phryne, she felt, was closer to her than he ever was.

"DO YOU WANT THE HOUSE STOP MOTHER"

...was the telegram she sent in frustration one day.

The return was just as she expected:

"NO STOP SELL STOP GUY"

Of course she couldn't sell, no one wanted or could afford such a place so, after a long, and frankly rather boring, consultation with her solicitor she changed her will and left it to Phryne to do with as she would.

"Oh, Aunt P," Phryne nearly dropped her teacup when she told her, "what will Guy say?"

"Guy doesn't want it, and I can't sell it, not in the current climate, I just thought you would do something useful with it," Prudence sniffed, "half of it is closed up, as you know but one day ..."

"I'll see it does some good, one way or another," Phryne touched her hand and smiled gently, "it means a lot to you, doesn't it, that I look after it."

"We've had so many wonderful times there, Phryne," she sniffed, "sad ones too, but I prefer to remember the happy times."

"Me too," Phryne nodded and they continued to take their tea in soft silence.

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Jack was not really surprised that Mrs Stanley had changed her will in favour of Phryne, he wasn't fond of Guy, he seemed to dismiss his mother as an old battle axe and he had found that was a long way from the truth. Prudence Stanley had her standards and didn't like letting them drop, but she was fond of Phryne and their children and they had struck up a strong friendship.

When Prudence did die Phryne held a celebration of her life at the house, opening up all the rooms and invited her friends and acquaintances, people she had helped indirectly to come a drink to her and share their stories. Guy did not attend the funeral, too far and with the world on the brink of war, again ...

Bert was beside himself with grief, which was no surprise to Phryne. He had grown close to her aunt bonding over the death of Arthur, two opposites who seemed to gravitate towards each other when times got the better of them. She had stipulated in her will that he should have his choice of anything he wanted to remember her by. He chose a seldom seen photograph of her with Arthur taken shortly before his untimely death. Phryne was touched that he should choose such a thing.

Polly and Bassie were old enough to understand that their great aunt had died and they wouldn't see her any more but all they asked was could there be scallop pies at the funeral tea.

"Because, mumma," Polly had cuddled at one side of Phryne, "that's what she would have wanted."

Phryne had smiled at the memory of Aunt P letting them taste Arthur's favourite treat and how they had both instantly loved them, "of course darling, we must have them, mustn't we."

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True to form her father decided to exasperate her and die during the war, so there was absolutely no way she could attend his funeral. She cried, he was her father, after all and she would miss him. Her mother held a small funeral supported by the friends she had made in London. She wrote to Phryne to say she would completely understand if Bassie did not move to England when he was old enough.

"... after all, darling," she wrote, "there is no estate for him to take stewardship of, just the title."

"We shall see, mother," Phryne had written back, "he is a bit young to understand and we don't want to remind him he now out-ranks his parents." She wished her mother well and asked her to tell her if there was anything she could do, though she doubted it, being so far away. Perhaps, if her mother outlived the war they could meet up again.

Margaret lived to see Bassie turn eighteen and take the title formally, as Baron of Richmond upon Thames. He had won a scholarship to Oxford so would stay with her for as long as he could. The whole family had gone to see him settled, put flowers on Henry's grave and Phryne had seen the solicitor and financial advisor to ascertain her mother was taken care of.

During his years in England, which were just a Phryne expected, long enough for him to get his degree, Bassie, or Sebastian as he now preferred to be known, took much care of his grandmother and took her with him to Melbourne one summer when he perceived her growing frailty.

"I thought she would be better off with you, mother," he confided one evening in the old familiar surroundings of the Wardlow parlour, "I shall come home once I have finished at Oxford and perhaps lease out the London house."

"You are right, darling," Phryne touched his face, so like his father she thought, in looks and deed, "I would hate for me to miss her passing as I did father's though I am sure he only did that to frustrate me."

"Probably, from what you say," he sipped his drink, "so, how's Polly? I thought she might be here."

"She's well and will be here tomorrow," Phryne smiled, as children they had been as thick as thieves, now Polly was studying medicine and followed their old friend Mac around like a puppy. "Mac's coming over as well, and it's about time she retired."

"Ha!" Sebastian laughed, "says you, who is still apprehending the wrong 'uns here. How about you and dad retiring, give up chasing crims round the docks."

"I'm nowhere near old enough to retire," she huffed, "neither is your father. He didn't like it when they insisted he retire from the force, the Detective Agency gave both of us a new lease of life."

"I do worry about you, ma," he touched her arm, "you've been shot at, kidnapped, throttled ... one day ..." his face darkened, "don't let that happen, ma, please."

"We'll take care, love." She looked over at her husband who had just listened to mother and son talk. His hair had grey in it now at the sides, most distinguished she told him, she had streaks of stark white in amongst the dark of her hair, still cut in a bob.

Jack decided to change the subject, it was getting too close to his worries as well, "so, son, what are your plans when you finish at Oxford? Hell raising round Melbourne, drinking, dancing and carousing in the clubs?"

"Dad, honestly," Sebastian laughed, "the title doesn't come with much money, as we all know, I shall look for something that uses my talents. The degree is in English Literature and Music so teaching is a possibility, as long as I can make a living I'll be happy."

"Definitely takes after you, Jack," Phryne smiled.

Jack just tipped his head and smiled that little smile that had captivated her all those years ago, over a corpse.

 _I shall leave it up to you, dear reader, to determine what Sebastian did with his life, how Jack and Phryne ended theirs and how Polly fared as a doctor. For me Jack and Phryne never die._


End file.
